
Class E 4^-^. 
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I o ♦,* <- ^ ^v 

OF THE * , 

IN THE UNITED STATES ; 

EXHIBITING SOME OF THE MOST AFFECTING 

CASES OF 

CRUEL AND BARBAROUS TREATMENT 

OF THE SLAVES 
BY THEIR MOST INHUxAIAN AND BRUTAL MASTERS; 

NOT HERETOFORE PUBLISHED: 

And also showing the absolute necessity for the most speedy Aboli- 
tion of Slavery, with an endeavour to point out the best Meaoa 
of effecting it. 

TO WHICH IS ADDED, 

A SHORT ADDRESS 

TO 

THE FREE PEOPLE OF COLOUR, 

With a Selection of HymnSy &c. SJc. 



BY E. THOMAS. 



PHILADELPHIA. 

PUBLISHED AND FOR SALE BY E. THOMAS. 
1834, 



EiTTEBED, according to tlie Act of Congress, in the year 
1834, by E. Thomas, in the District Court for the Eastern 
District of Pennsylvania. 



PREFACE. 



Having long been impressed with a deep 
sense of the oppressed condition of the slaves 
in the southern states, by hearing of nnany 
dreadful accounts of their being barbarously 
treated, I now consider it a duty incumbent on 
me to publish to the world, the result of my 
gleanings and observations on this subject, that 
I may, if possible, create in the public mind a 
disposition to relieve the distressed condition of 
this degraded and unhappy people: but, to en- 
ter into a particular detail of all the cruelties 
and barbarities inflicted on the slaves, by their 
inhuman masters since the commencement of 
slavery, is not the design of the present work, 
neither would it be necessary, as it has al- 
ready been done in a greater or less degree, 



IV PREFACE. 

by men of known abilities and distinguished 
philanthropy. But my principal design at pre- 
sent, is, to record some striking cases of cruelty 
of more recent date, not heretofore published, 
and which have been related to me during my 
travels through the different states, for three 
years past: in order to excite in the mind of eve- 
ry individual a love of liberty, and an invete- 
rate abhorrence of slavery, that each may en- 
deavour by throwing in his mite, to contribute 
towards its total abolition; and that the best 
means of emancipation consistent with bene- 
volence and humanity, may be more generally 
considiied. 

Those facts or accounts of cruelty have been 
communicated to me by different persons of 
undoubted veracity, and in whom 1 place the 
most entire confidence. But at the times of 
receiving those accounts, I had no idea of pub- 
lishing them, and, therefore, was not careful to 
note down the precise time and place in which 
each event happened; hut, as I do not consi- 
der precision in this respect absolutely neces- 
sary, I therefore hope to be excused, not only 
for this, but for other imperfections which may 



PREFACE. V 

be found in the work. I have also omitted 
giving the full names of the slave-holders men- 
tioned in this v^'ork, througii regard to their 
posterity, on whom it might possibly, in some 
measure, entail a disgrace. 

E. Thomas, 
JIffly 12th, 1834. 



1* 



CONTENTS. 



Catherine Collins, .... 7 

The infant whipped to death with a cow-skin, . 8 

The aged woman starved to death, . . 9 

The man that had his teeth knocked out, . . 11 

The rash overseer, .... 14 

The master and slave struck by lightning, . 16 

The slave shot by her master, . . 18 

The slave that was shot for going out to preach, 20 

The slave whipped for hard riding, . . 22 

Slaves eating out of a hog-trough, . . 23 

The slave whipped to death for killing a sheep, 24 

The slave slowly dissected and burnt, . . 25 
The slave whipped to death for telling his vision, 27 

The man and wife yoked like oxen, . . 29 

The ungodly man converted, ... 30 

Recent case in New Orleans, . . .32 

Tlie slave whipped for going to see his wife, . 38 

The slave flogged and robbed, . . .39 

The pregnant woman whipped, . . 40 

Mr. Moore's speech, . . . .41 

General reflections, &c. ... 69 

Emancipation, . . . . .78 

A short address, .... 84 

A Selection or Hymns, &.c. . . . 95 
Hymn for the morning, . • .96 

Evening hymn, . . . • .98 

On the nativity of Christ, . . • 99 

A hymn — Psalm viiith, , . • 100 

On retirement, ...» 101 

A contemplation, &.c. . . ; 103 

A thought on first waking . • : 104 



IV 



CONTEKTTS. 



Reflections on the close of the year, 


105 


Hymn occasioned by a recovery from illness 


106 


On the shortness of life, 


108 


A dream, . , . ^ 


109 


The love of Christ weans us from the love of the 




world, ..... 


110 


The divine presence, 


111 


An evening thought .... 


113 


Love to God gives peace of mind, 


115 


Humanity, ..... 


115 


From the book of Wisdom, &c. 


116 


Third chapter of Habakkuk imitated. 


117 


Thoughts on the grave of a child, by a father 


118 


The unknown world, &c. 


121 


The wife's consolation to her husband under af- 




fliction, . . . . 


122 


Holy-days, , . . . 


123 


A contemplation on night. 


125 


The knowledge of God natural to man, . 


127 


Pride and humility, . . , .- 


T^8 


Resignation, .... 


130 


Middle state, — Solitude, 


132 


An evening reflection. 


133 


Searching after happiness, 


135 


Life is short, — Concluding stanzas, 


136 


The blind and weak led and supported, 


137 


Songs of praise, . . . . 


137 


Hymn, . . . . . 


138 


A thought on waking. 


139 


On happiness, .... 


140 


Pharaoh's daughter, 


141 


A prayer, ...-.• 


142 


Death, ..... 


143 


Star in t1ie east, .... 


143 


To peace, . . . 


145 


Extract from a midnight thought, 


146 


Select pieces in prose. 


148 


A prayer of Prince Eugene, . 


169 


Account of a curious sermon, 


171 


An account of a dreadful storm, &c. . 


174 



A 

CO:\CISE VIEW, &c. 



CATHERINE COLLINS. 

This unhappy woman was a slave in 
the state of Delaware, and as nearly as I 
■can recollect, resided at no great dis- 
tance from the town of Dover. She in- 
formed me that her inhuman master often 
sent her out into the woods to split rails 
when there was a deep snow on the 
ground, entirely hare-foot, and destitute 
of any other clothing but a shift and 
petticoat. That she had her daily task 
assigned her, which consisted of from 
ninety to one hundred rails per day to 
split; that the tears would sometimes 
freeze on her cheeks; and, that her feet 
were frozen in such a manner that they 
burst open. — But at length having re- 
ceived her freedom, (which if I remem- 
ber rightly, was through the death of her 



( 8 ) 

master,) she came to Philadelphia, hut 
her feet were so much injured by the 
frost, that.it took a considerable length 
of time before the cracks were entirely 
healed. 



AN INFANT WHIPPED TO DEATH 
WITH A COW-SKIN. 

This happened, about ten miles from 
the city of Baltimore, at Hampton, on the 
plantation of R., by a man named G., who 
was an overseer. — The case was as fol- 
lows: — The infant was crawling on the 
floor, being yet too young to walk, but 
happening to cry very loud, (as young 
children frequently do,) the unmerciful 
tyrant came out of the adjacent room 
with a cow-skin in his hand, and being 
wrought up into a violent passion at the 
noise which the child made, he imme- 
diately struck it over the head with all 
his might ! just as the cruel carters some- 



( 9 ) 

times whip their horses. — The child in- 
stantly curled up into a heap, was seized 
with convulsions; and in a short time ex- 
pired! !* 



THE AGED WOMAN STARVED TO 
DEATH. 

The following tragical event also hap- 
pened at Hampton, on the plantation of 
R., by the same person already men- 
tioned, and in the same house. This 
slave-holder had a female slave, who 
was upwards of one hundred years old; 
but, on account of extreme old age, had 
become totally blind and bald-headed, 
and, of course, was rendered unfit for 
any farther service; in consequence of -# 

* A man, for running away, was whipped at the same 
place, and by the same person, in the following- manner, 
naniL'Iy: The first week, once every day; the second, 
week, every other day; and, the third week, once every 
two days; but, at length, the skin came of his back like a 
glove from the hand. 



( 10 ) 

which the overseer put her in the ash- 
house, and fastened her in, in order that 
she might there starve to death! having 
strictly forbidden every person to give 
her any thing to eat or drink; but some of 
the slaves secretly contrived to give her 
some nourishment a few times, and thus 
caused her to live a little longer; but, 
fearing the dreadful consequences of 
their master's resentment, if the thing 
should be discovered, they soon desisted 
from giving her any thing, and thus the 
wretched old woman was suffered to 
perish by herself in the dismal ash-house, 
unpitied and unmoved, by any except 
those who had no power to relieve her. 
For a considerable length of time, her 
incessant cries and groans were sufficient 
to pierce the hardest heart that possessed 
the least feelingofsyrapathy or humanity. 
She scratched the window with her nails 
and continaliy begged for a little water^ 
almost until the moment she expired! 



( 11 ) 



THE MAN THAT HAD HIS TEETH KNOCKED 
OUT. 

I am not certain in which of the states 
this extreme act of cruelty happened, 
but I think it was in Georgia^ and was 
nearly as follows: 

, It was on a Sabbath day, and it ap- 
pears that the master of the family, with 
his wife and children, went to church to- 
gether in a carriage; but for what pur- 
pose he went there, I will not pretend to 
say; perhaps he went because it was 
fashionable, or rather more probably for 
some kind of speculation or other; for it 
was not likely that he went for any good 
purpose, as his actions on his return from 
church clearly indicated. He generally, 
on such occasions, intrusted the care of 
the house to two of his female slaves; the 
rest of the slaves were usually at work in 
the fields, though sometimes they were 
allowed a little leisure on Sabbath days 
for recreation, or to amuse themselves as 



( 12 ) 

they pleased. It is well known that 
many of the slaves seldom eat any thing 
but corn all the year round, and of this 
they sometimes have but a scanty pro- 
portion; they are allowed to cook it any 
way they choose; but the general method 
is by pounding it and then boiling it, 
thus making a kind of mush or hominy. 
But one of the slaves named Cato hap- 
pened to come to the house to get some 
drink, and finding no person within, (for 
the females above mentioned had gone 
into the orchard to pick some apples,) 
and being very hungry, he was tempted 
to search the pantry, the door of which 
by chance was left unlocked, and there 
he espied a nice fat turkey which had 
been previously cooked and intended for 
the family dinner; Cato had never tasted 
a morsel of turkey in his life, and the 
sight was so inviting, that he could not 
withstand the temptation; so he fell ta 
and made a hearty meal, eating nearly 
one half of it: but he afterwards paid 
very dear for his temerity; for the mas- 
ter on coming home from church and 
being informed of what had beeh done. 



( 13 ) 

flew into a most violent passion, which 
made Cato tremble in every limb ! and 
seeing his impending danger, fell down 
on his knees and begged in the most pi- 
teous manner of his master, not to hurt 
him. 

^*0h ! massa ! massa !'' says he, ^^ don't 
hurt poor Cato ! — Oh ! massa! massa! for 
God's sake don't hurt poor Cato, he'll 
never do so again." 

But his master, deaf to any thing he 
could say in his own defence, was deter- 
mined to punish him; so he ordered them 
to bring him a hammer, and grasping the 
top of poor Cato's head with one hand, 
bade him open his d — d mouth, as he 
called it, and with the other hand 
knocked out nearly all his fore teeth! 
mashing his lips at the same time in the 
most shocking manner, and uttering the 
most vulgar and profane language. 

It may easily be imagined what poor 
Cato suffered, from the intense pain oc- 
casioned by such an operation; his mouth 
was so sore and swelled, that it almost 
deprived him of speech for a considera- 
ble length of time. 

2 



( 14 ) 



THE RASH OVERSEER. 

This occurrence happened on the 
premises of Dr. H — n of Mecklenburgh, 
state of Virginia, and was related to me 
by Mrs. H — r of Philadelphia. She 
was, I believe, at the time on a visit, at 
the house of said Doctor, who was consi- 
dered a very humane man, and remarka- 
bly kind to his slaves, and would not suf- 
fer them to be abused by any person 
whatever; and if he happened to employ 
an overseer, who treated them roughly, 
he w^ould immediately discharge him and 
employ another. And thus it happened 
on the present occasion; the overseer 
proved to be a man of a most ungoverna- 
able temper and savage disposition, and 
who delighted in cruelty, and loved to 
exercise his authority with the utmost 
rigour, he would knock down the slaves 
with a club, for the most trifling offence, 
and kick them about shamefully, merely 
to gratify his violent passions. He was 



( 15 ) 

also a profane swearer, and a very vulgar 
man: but in consequence of this ill treat- 
ment of the slaves, as soon as the Doctor 
was apprized of it, he discharged him 
instantly. 

However, it so happened, that in a 
short time afterwards this same overseer 
came again on the premises on horseback, 
on a Sabbath day, but for what purpose 
he came, I cannot tell, whether it was 
with an intention to quarrel with the 
Doctor for discharging him, or to wreak 
his vengeance on some of the slaves, I 
will not venture to say, but just as he 
was going away he swore he would ride 
into hell ! — And it seems that judgment 
soon overtook him; for he ran his horse 
«o violently, that in a few seconds, he 
was thrown off and had his brains dashed 
out against the root of a tree. 



( 16 ) 



THE MASTER AND SLAVE STRUCK BY 
LIGHTNING. 

It once happened in some part of the 
state of Virginia, (but I do not recollect 
the place precisely,) that during a vio- 
lent thunderstorm that came on sudden- 
ly, as some slaves were working in a 
field not very far from the dwelling- 
house, one of them was struck down by 
the lightning, and to all appearance was 
dead; but the storm abating in a few mi- 
nutes, the mistress of the slaves looking 
through the window soon perceived what 
had been done, for some of the slaves 
were bearing their lifeless companion to- 
wards the house; the mistress observed 
that every means should be resorted to, 
in order, if possible, to restore him to 
life; not that she had any particular re- 
gard for him, but only wished to pre- 
serve his life on account of his services, 
for she considered that his death would 
be a great loss; just in the same manner 



( 17 ) 

as she would a valuable horse or ox on 
account of his work. She, therefore, 
used her best endeavours: she ordered 
them to strip him immediately and 
plunge him in the cold bath; but some 
say it was the affusion of cold water, and 
this method appears the more likely, for 
I have several times heard of its being at- 
tended with success. But whatever me- 
thod she had recourse to, it appears that 
it had the desired effect; for he reco- 
vered in a few minutes and was restored 
to perfect health, to the great joy of all 
present. 

They were all at the time of the storm 
very much shocked and frightened at 
the lightning which flashed through the 
windows with the most terrific glare! 
and it seemed to them as if the house 
had actually been struck. But during 
all this time in consequence of the alarm 
and confusion, they did not observe that 
the master of the house was absent, and 
at this discovery the wife was very un- 
easy, and much troubled in her mind, 
fearing that some accident had befallen 
him; and it appears that she was not left 

2* 



18 ) 

long in suspense before her fears were 
realized; for, on searching the house, 
they found him in an upper chamber, 
struck dead by the lightning ! The same 
means were resorted to that had just be- 
fore been practised upon the slave, but 
it was too late, the vital spark had fled ! 
and he fell to rise no more ! The great 
anxiety and distress which this event oc- 
casioned, particularly to the wife and 
children, may be better felt than de- 
scribed. But I shall conclude with 
making one remark; namely: that as the 
master was known to be a most unrelent- 
ing and cruel tyrant to his slaves, per- 
haps it was a judgment on him, that 
his life should be taken away in this most 
sudden and awful manner, whilst that of 
his slave was preserved. 



THE SLAVE SHOT BY HER MASTER. 

A gentleman and his lady, a few years 
ago, went from the city of New York, on 



■( 19 ) 

a visit to aa acquaintance of theirs, living 
in the city of Charlestown, South Caroli- 
na: they had been therefor some time, and 
all things went on tolerably well, until on 
a certain day, at dinner, one of the female 
slaves, by accident, happened to spill 
some sauce, or gravy, out of a dish she 
was carrying from the table, on the silk 
frock of the lady above mentioned. The 
poor girl immediately fell down on her 
knees, and begged the lady's pardon for 
her unintentional offence; for, knowing 
the ferocious temper of her master, she 
had reason to dread the terrible con- 
sequence. The lady very politely for- 
gave her, made several apologies for her^ 
and entreated the master not to inflict any 
punishment upon the girl on her account, 
as she was not in the least offended at 
what had happened, seeing it was an ac- 
cident. The gentleman (her husband) 
also apologized for her, but all to no pur- 
pose; for, as soon as the slave went into 
the yard, her master, who was watching 
for an opportunity to catch her alone, 
took a gun and shot her dead on the spot! 
The whole family were dreadfully alarmed 



1/ 

( ^^ ) 

at this conduct, and the gentleman, who 
saw what was done, was greatly agitated - 
and hurt in his feelings; and, after repri- 
manding the master severely, told him, 
plainly, that he never wished to see his 
face any more, and that he intended to 
report him on his arrival at New York. 
He and his lady then immediately set out 
on their journey to their native city, and 
bade adieu to the monster for ever. 



THE SLAVE THAT WAS SHOT FOR GOING 
OUT TO PREACH. 

This slave's name was John Grooms, 
and his owner lived, at the time this event 
happened, in Yorktown, Pennsylvania. 
He was said to be a humane man; but, as 
the keeping of slaves is prohibited in this 
state, by law, he concluded to hire 
Grooms out, in a slave state, and^ accord- 
ingly, he took him to the state of Dela- 
warc; where he had a number of ac- 



( 21 ) 

quaintances, and told him to choose his 
master, which he did, and chose one of 
the name of G. who lived near Sandtown, 
not far from the line that divides this 
state from Maryland. — Grooms, it ap- 
pears was a very pious man, and was in 
the habit of going out in the evenings to 
preach to his coloured brethren, and this 
favour he was permitted to enjoy for 
some time unmolested; but, at length, he 
happened one evening to stay away 
longer than usual, his master became en- 
raged, and ordered the overseer, a man 
named W., to load the gun, but with 
powder only, and discharge it at 
Grooms, with a view to frighten him; 
but the overseer charged the gun with 
shot, also; and when Grooms arrived, 
chased him in doors, and out, and 
through muddy places, until at last 
coming near him, shot him, but not quite 
dead, he then dragged him into the 
mill, where he lay for a length of time 
weltering in his blood till he expired ! 

It is said, that as the master and his 
daughter were one day riding out in a 
carriage^ the latter — suddenly screamed 



( 22 ) 

out to her father, and said, she saw 
Orooms catching hold of the reins of the 
horses! but, whether this was real, or 
imaginary, I will let the reader judge 
for himself; but it appears that the master 
never prospered afterwards, but had his 
mill burnt down and was reduced to 
poverty. 

The real owner of the slave, on hear- 
ing what had happened, was greatly en- 
raged, and declared that if he had the 
monsters in Yorktown, he would have 
them both hanged. 

But the overseer was certainly more 
culpable than the master, for having 
loaded the gun with shot. 



THE SLAVE WHIPPED FOR HARD RIDING. 

A man living near Leesburg, Vir- 
ginia, named M., had a slave of the name 
of Isaac Diggs, who it appears, rode a 
mare belonging to his master so hard, 



( 23 ) 

that it caused her to cast an untimely 
foal; for which Diggs was flogged so se- 
verely, that he was under the necessity 
of walking with crutches ever after- 



SLAVES EATING OUT OF A HOG-TROUGH, 

This likewise took place in Virginia. 
The master, it seems, in this case was 
more condescending than many others 
who generally feed their slaves with raw 
Indian corn, or suffer them to cook it in 
what manner they choose. But this ra- 
ther more humane slave-holder, ordered 
regular meals to be made of a sort of 
hominy, and put it in a large hog-trough, 
in which the hounds also were fed. If 
the slaves behaved well, they were per- 
mitted as a favour to eat before the 
hounds; but for the least offence; the 
hounds ate their hominy first. 



( '^4 ) 



THE SLAVE WHIPPED TO DEATH FOR 
KILLING A SHEEP. ' 

This also happened near Leesbiirg, on 
the plantation of one J. L., who had a 
slave named Anthony Tony. This poor 
fellow one evening being very hungry, 
(for like the generality of slaves in many 
of the states, having nothing but raw corn 
for his daily allowance,) longed to taste 
a piece of mutton. He, therefore, w^as 
determined at the risk of all consequences 
to kill one of his master's sheep. But 
perhaps through extreme hunger, (for 
hunger is a powerful persuader,) he did 
not think of his master's resentment; how- 
ever, he killed a sheep and cooked a 
part, of which he made a hearty meal, 
but it cost him his life; for as soon as the 
master became acquainted with the cir- 
cumstance, he ordered the overseer to 
have no compassion on him, but to flog 
him in the most severe manner. The 
overseer immediately obeyed his com- 



( 25 ) 

mands, and after compelling Anthony^s 
fellow slaves to strip him entirely naked 
and tie him, he then began the infernal 
work in which his soul delighted. He 
whipped him so unmercifully with a cow- 
skin, tha^t the blood gushed out in 
streams, and continued the operation so 
longj that he actually expired. 



THE SLAVE SLOWLY DISSECTED AND 
BURNED. 

A slave in the state of Georgia, on ac- 
count of ill usage, ran away from his 
master, but was retaken and brought 
back again to stand his trial. The mas- 
ter was determined to make an example 
of him; with a view not only to deter the 
other slaves from running away, but also 
to gratify his savage and revengeful dis- 
position. He ordered a large fire to be 
made in the kitchen, and the slave to be 
stripped and tied before the fire, that he 

3 



( 26 } 

might dissect him by degrees. The 
poor wretch, who saw what was going to 
be done, begged of his master to begin 
at his head first, in order that he might 
be despatched the sooner, and thereby 
prevent his suffering so much; but*tlfe 
savage master, deaf to any thing having 
even the appearance of mercy, began at 
his feet first, by chopping off his toes and 
throwing them in the fire; he then cut 
off his hands and threw them in, tlien 
tore out his entrails and threw them in; 
after which he tore out his heart also and 
and threw it in; and lastly he cut off his 
head and threw it with the rest of the 
body in the fire. He then cautioned all 
the slaves to keep these things a secret 
upon the peril of their lives; but the 
news soon spread abroad, and, conse- 
quently, he was arrested and went 
through a sort of sham trial: but, finally^ 
was cleared, as is the case generally in 
the slave states. 

N. B. — The above statement may be relied upon as a 
real fact, for the information was received through various 
channels, although I have forgotten the name of the master 
and the precise place where it happened. 



< 27 ) 



THE SLAVE WHIPPED TO DEATH FOR 
TELLING HIS VISION. 

A slave named Ajax (belonging to one 
General D.,\vho lived not far from Lees- 
burg, Virginia,) had a very remarkable 
dream or vision, which of the two I will 
not pretend to determine, though it was 
stated to me to be the latter; the sub- 
stance of which was as follows: he con- 
ceived himself transported into the midst 
of the infernal regions, where he beheld 
the torments of those who were consigned 
to everlasting punishment, and among 
the rest saw his master and overseer, 
(the latter being already dead,) suspend- 
ed by their tongues, and hanging in the 
midst of hell!! This awful sight made such 
an impression on his mind, that he was 
exceedingly terrified, and immediately 
communicated what he saw to most of his 
acquaintances, and among the rest to his 
master^ who was determined from this 
moment to make an example of him, and 



( 28 ) 

have him chastised severely for his rash- 
ness, as he called it; for, like Joseph's 
brethren of old, he hated him the more 
for his dream or vision, to which he bade 
defiance. He ordered him to be stripped 
entirely naked, and then tied fast and 
lashed with a cow-skin, in such a most 
unmerciful manner, that every stroke 
made the blood fly in every direction ! 
The poor slave bore it all with patience, 
and at the same time telling them that 
they might take away his life, as soon as 
they pleased; butthat they could not de- 
stroy his soul, which he foresaw would soon 
wing its flight to those celestial abodes, 
^^where the wicked cease from troubling 
and the weary are at rest." And 
this belief was no doubt quickly verified, 
for, being sick at the time, the operation 
was greater than he could bear, and he 
expired in a few minutes. 

This slave-holder had a very violent 
temper, and sometimes made use of very 
rash expressions; and when at Bladens- 
burg, where he had the command of the 
army, (during the late war with Great 
Britain,) some of the soldiers, at the time 



( 29 ) 

they were encamped, came to him to ask 
for a furlough, in order that they might 
visit their families or friends; but he 
swore that he would give them none, and 
that if even Jesus Christ should come and 
ask for a furlough, he would not grant 
him any. 

But it appears that he never after- 
wards seemed to prosper, but was re- 
duced to poverty, and in a few months 
terminated his existence. 



THE MAN AND WIFE YOKED LIKE OXEN. 

A man and his wife were once yoked 
like oxen and brought from West River, 
(in the state of Maryland,) to Baltimore 
to be sold to the highest bidder, and it 
is said that one Philip Rogers, a metho- 
dist minister, out of Immanity, purchased 
them with his own money, and aft^r 
having brought them to Philadelphia, set 
them free. 

3* 



( 30 ) 



THE UNGODLY MAN CONVERTED. 

This happened in the state of Virginia, 
and was nearly as follows: — A slave living 
in the above-mentioned state, was said to 
be indusirious and attentive to his master's 
business, and more careful to perform his 
work well, than most slaves generally 
are: in consequence of which, he was 
more esteemed by the family than the 
rest of the slaves; and even his cruel 
master was inclined to indulge him more 
than the rest on account of his fidelity. 
Bat this slave, it appears, was in the habit 
of -attending the church on Sabbath day 
evenings, and this for a length of time 
was permitted by his master; but the lat- 
ter wanting his services at home some- 
times on those occasions, when he was 
absent, at length forbade him going any 
more; but the slave still persisted in go- 
ing, notwithstanding the master's injunc- 
tions to the contrary. At last the mas- 
ter finding his commands still disobeyed, 



( 31 ) 

told him plainly, that if he went once 
more, he would whip him to death. But 
the slave disregarded his threats and went 
again to church; the master then flew 
into a most violent passion, and as soon 
as the slave came home, he commanded 
him to stand before him and strip off his 
shirt: he did so, and the master began to 
lash him most furiously, when the slave 
at this critical moment instantly kneeled 
down on his knees and prayed for his 
master; but this enraged him still more, 
and he swore most bitterly, and told the 
slave that if he did not desist from pray- 
ing, he would kill him dead on the spot ! 
but the slave, being determined, still con- 
tinued praying, until at length, the mas- 
ter fell down in a state of insensibility, 
and to all appearance, lifeless, and lay in 
that condition many hours before he ut- 
tered a word, for it seems that the 
judgment of the Lord was heavy upon 
him, and from the time of his recovery, 
(which was effected with some difficulty,) 
he became an altered man, took a serious 
turn, prayed most fervently, and became 
a true Christian. He soon gave all the 



( 32 ) 

slaves their freedom; and in a short time 
afterwards became a preacher of righte- 
ousness, and a travelling minister of the 
methodist denomination; and many times 
he related the above circumstance in the 
pulpit with tears in his eyes, to the great 
comfort and benefit of the audience. . 



RECENT CASE IN NEW ORLEANS. 

The occurrence of a fire in New Or- 
leans, on the tenth ultimo, has led to a 
disclosure of circumstances of a horrify- 
ing character. The Courier of that day 
has the annexed particulars: 

^' A fire broke out this morning in the 
kitchen of Madame Lalaurie, corner of 
Royal and Bayou streets, which was soon 
wrapped in flames. It was known to some 
of the neighbours, that the upper part of 
this building was used as a prison, and that 
it was then tenanted by several unfor- 
tunate slaves loaded with chains. In- 



( 33 ) 

formation of this fact was communicated 
to Judge Cauonge, who instantly waited 
on Mr. Lalaurie, and asked permission 
of that gentleman, in a polite manner, 
to have the slaves removed to a place of 
safety; when the latter, with much rude- 
ness, replied, that " there were those 
who would he hetter employed if they 
would attend to their own affairs, instead 
of officiously intermeddling with the 
concerns of other people.^' The flames 
gaining rapidly on the building, orders 
were given to break open the doors, 
which being promptly obeyed, a most ap- 
palling sight was presented, in the shape 
of several wretched negroes etnerging 
from the fire, their bodies covered with 
scars and loaded with chains ! Amongst 
them was a female slave, npw\'\rds of 60 
years of age, who could not move. Some 
young men carried her to the city guard 
house, where the others, six in number, 
were also conducted, to be protected 
from the cruelty of their owner. We 
saw one of these miserable beings. The 
sight was so horrible that we could scarce 
look upon it. The most savage heart 



( 34 ) 

could not have witnessed the spectacle 
unmoved. He had a large hole in his 
head, his body from head to foot was co- 
vered with scars and filled with worms ! I 
The sight inspired us with so much hor- 
ror, that even at the moment of writing 
this article we shudder from its effects. 
Those who have seen the others repre- 
sent them to be in a similar condition. 

We forbear a farther description of 
this revolting spectacle, as it can hardly 
be agreeable to the feelings of our rea- 
ders. We hope the grand jury will take 
cognizance of this unparalleled outrage, 
and bi»ing the perpetrators of it to the 
punishment they so. richly deserve. 

The Louisiana Advertiser remarks — 
We are sorry to be obliged to copy the 
above article, which may give a colour- 
ing to the bad opinion expressed and 
sought to be disseminated against us in 
the north. But as proof that our popu- 
lation are not generally composed of 
such monsters as Madame Lalaurie, we 
have, however m\ich we may be opposed 
to mobs, the pleasure as citizens of New 
Orleans, of stating that last night the in- 



( 35 ) 

furiated populace, assaulted, and, in their 
just indignation sought the wretch; but 
not finding her, demolished her dwelling 
and destroyed her property. 

But we leave the subject to judicial 
investigation, assured that justice will be 
done, and the guilty be brought to pun- 
ishment. 

The Bee of the 11th ult., says — ^^The 
populace have repaired to the house of 
this woman, and have demolished and 
destroyed every thing upon which they 
could Jay their hands. At the time of 
inditing this, the fury of the mob re- 
mained still unabated, and threatens the 
demolition of the entire edifice.'^ 

The Bee of the 12th says— «^ The pa- 
pular fury, which we briefly a*dverted to 
in our paper of yesterday, as consequent 
upon the discovery of the barbarous and 
fiendish atrocities committed by the wo- 
man Lalaurie, upon the persons of her 
slaves, continued unabated the whole of 
the evening before last, and partof yester- 
day morning. It was found necessary, for 
the purpose of restoring order, for the 
sheriff and his ofiicers to repair to the 



( 36 ) 

place of riot, and to interpose the autho- 
rity of the state, which we are pleased to 
notice proved effectual without the oc- 
currence of any of those acts of violence 
which are common upon similar occa- 
sions. We regret, however, to state, 
that previously some indignities had been 
shown to Judge Canonge, who ventured 
to expostulate w^ith the assailants upon 
the propriety of ceasing their operations, 
and that during the same, deadly wea- 
pons were in the hands of many persons, 
a resort to which at one time was seri- 
ously apprehended. Nothing of the 
kind, happily, however, transpired. 

Nearly the whole of the edifice is de- 
molished, and scarcely any thing remains 
but the walls, which the popular ven- 
geance have ornamented with various 
writings expressive of their indignation 
and the justness of their punishment. 

The loss of property sustained, is esti- 
mated by some at $40,000; but others 
think this calculation exaggerated. It 
must, however, have been very great, in- 
deed, as the furniture alone was of the 
most costly kind, consisting of pianos^ 



( 37 ) 

armoirs, buffets, &c., which were re- 
moved to the garret and thrown from 
thence into the street, for the purpose 
of rendering them of no possible value 
whatever. 

This is the first act of the kind that 
our populace have ever engaged in; and 
although the provocation pleads much in 
favour of the excesses committed, yet we 
dread the precedent. To say the least 
of it, it may be excused, but cannot be 
justified. Summary punishments, the 
results of popular excitement in a go- 
vernment of laws, can never admit of 
justification, let the circumstances be 
ever so aggravating. 

The whole of yesterday and the pre- 
ceding day, the police jail was crowded 
by persons pressing forward to witness 
the unfortunate wretches who had es- 
caped cruelties that would compare with 
those of a Domitian, a Nero, or a Cali- 
gula ! Four thousand persons at least, it 
is computed, have already visited these 
victims to convince themselves of their 
sufferings. 



( 38 ) 



The following accounts were given me 

hy a very intelligent coloured man of 

this city, named J. C. 31. ^ ivho ivas an 

eye witness of thefctcts^ which were as 

follow : 

THE SLAVE WHIPPED FOR GOING TO SEE 
HIS WIFE. 

In North Carolina, near Edenton, and 
on the plantation of A. C, Esq., lived a 
slave of the name of Stephen, (who had 
formerly lost a leg;) merely for going to 
see his wife, (w^ho resided on a neighbour- 
ing plantation,) although he had his 
young master's permission, and was back 
in time for his work next morning, yet he 
was tied and flogged with a cowskin ! 
then his head w as cut with an angular 
stick loaded with lead, and notched on 
the edges; at every stroke of which the 
blood flowed. 



i 39 ) 



^i^^f'i 



THE SLAVE FLOGGED AND ROBBED. 

In 1829, one R — , who keeps a tavern 
in Conti street, New Orleans, had a slave 
named Joe, who ran away from his mas- 
ter, but when brought back he offered 
to purchase his time, and had tendered 
1000 dollars^" down, but this was refused: 
he was then flogged severely with the 
long cart whip, till his back was cut in 
scores ! then washed with pickle and 
placed in the stocks. But as soon as the 
welts were a little healed, he was flogged 
again, and this was repeated for some 
time; when at last, his master, after 
having fully gratified his revenge by 
making an example of him, robbed him 
of all his money, and sold him to the 
owner of a sugar plantation. 

* This money he collected from a great many well dis- 
posed people, who g-ave it to him through compassion, in 
order that he might purcliase his freedom. 



( 40 ) 



THE PREGNANT WOMAN WHIPPED. 

Mrs. C, a widow woman in Wilming- 
ton, North Carolina, had a slave named 
Mary, far advanced in a state of preg- 
nancy, flogged in the market place for a 
most trifling offence, until nature caused 
her to bring forth the fruit of her womb 
on the naked earth ! She was taken in- 
sensible to. the prison, but whether she 
lived or died, I cannot say. 



Many more terrible cases of cruelty 
of a similar nature might be added, but 
perhaps those already mentioned will be 
sufficient for the present purpose. I 
shall now proceed to give an extract from 
the admirable speeph of Mr. Moore, (on 
the subject of slavery,) who has shown in 
the plainest manner, independently of 
the crime attached to it, the great im- 
policy of holding slaves. ^' 




/^7rf//f^f^f/ 



Y \\\ Av\, 



\k 



■fL 



( 41 ) 



Extracts from the Speech of Mr, Moore, 
in the House of Delegates of Virginia, 
on the subject of Negro Slavery, 

It is utterly impossible for us to avoid 
the consideration of this subject, which 
forces itself upon our view in such a 
manner, that we cannot avoid it. As 
well might the apostle have attempted 
to close his eyes against the light which 
shone upon him from heaven, or to have 
turned a deaf ear to the name which 
reached him from on high, as for this as- 
sembly to try to stifle the spirit of inquiry 
which is abroad in this land, as to the best 
means of freeing the state from the curse 
of slavery. The monstrous consequences 
which arise from the existence of slavery^ 
have become exposed to open day; the 
dangers arising from it stare us in the face, 
and it becomes us as men, as freemen, and 
the representatives of freemen, to meet 
and overcome them, rather than to attempt 
to escape by evading them. Permit me 

4* 



( 42 ) 

no\\^, sir, to direct your attention to some 
of the evil consequences of slavery^ by 
way of argument, in favour of our ma- 
turely deliberating on the whole subject, 
and adopting some efficient measures to 
remove the cause from whicli those evils 
spring. In the first place, I shall con- 
fine my remarks to such of those evils 
as affect the white population exclusive- 
ly. And even in that point of view, 
I think that slavery as it exists among us, 
may be regarded as the heaviest calamity 
which has ever befallen any portion of 
the human race. If we look back 
through the long course of time which 
has elapsed from the creation to the pre- 
sent moment, we shall scarcely be able 
to point out a people whose situation was 
not, in many respects, preferable to our 
own; and that of the other states in which 
negro slavery exists. True, sir, we 
shall see nations which have groaned 
under the yoke of despotism for hundreds 
and thousands of years, but the indivi- 
duals composing those nations have en- 
joyed a degree of happiness, peace, and 
freedom from oppression, which the 
holders of slaves, in this country, can 



( 43 ) 

never know. True it is, that slavery 
has existed almost from the time of the 
deluge, in some form or other, in diffe- 
rent parts of the world; but always, and 
every where, under less disadvantageous 
circumstances than in this country. 

The Greeks and Romans had many 
slaves, but, fortunately for them, there 
was no difterence in complexion, which 
placed an impassable barrier between the 
freeman and the slave, and prevented 
them from liberating the latter, or raising 
him to an equality with the former. They 
exercised an unlimited power over even 
the lives of their slaves, and being under 
but little restraint from principles of 
humanity, they could guard against dan- 
ger by putting a part of their slaves to 
death. We appear destined to see the 
evil constantly increasing upon us, whilst 
we are restrained upon the one hand, 
from raising them to the condition of 
freemen, by unconquerable prejudices 
against their complexion; and on the 
other, from destroying them, by feelings 
of humanity, which, thank God, are 
equally invincible. But, sir, I must 
proceed to point out some of the most 



( 44 ) 

prominent evils arising from the exist- 
ence of slavery among us. And among 
these^ the first I shall mention^ is 
the irresistible tendency which it has to 
undermine and destroy every thing like 
virtue and morality in the community. 
I think I may safely assert, that ignorance 
is the inseparable companion of slavery, 
and that the desire of freedom is the in- 
evitable consequence of implanting in 
the human mind any useful degree of in- 
telligence; it is, therefore, the policy of 
the master, that the ignorance of his 
slaves shall be as profound as possible; 
and such a state of ignorance is wholly 
incomxpatible with the existence of any 
moral principle, or exalted feeling in the 
breast of the slave. It renders him incapa- 
ble of deciding between right and wrong, 
of judging of the enormity of crime, or 
of estimating the high satisfaction which 
the performance of an honourable act 
affords to more intelligent beings. He 
is never actuated by those noble and in- 
spiring motives which prompt the free 
to the performance of creditable and 
praiseworthy deeds; on the contrary, his 
early habits, pursuits, and associations, are 



( 45 ) 

such as to bring into action all his most 
vicious propensities. 

He is habituated, from his infancy, to 
sacrifice truth without remorse, as the 
only means of escaping punishment, 
which is too apt to be inflicted whether 
merited or not. The candid avowal of 
the fault, which a kind parent is disposed 
to regard in his child as the evidence of 
merit, is sure to be considered by the 
master as insolence in a slave; and to 
furnish additional reason for inflicting 
punishment upon him. The slave per- 
ceives that he can never attain to the 
least distinction in society, however fair 
and unexceptionable his conduct may 
be, or even to an equality with the low- 
est class of freemen; and that, however 
innocent he may be, he is often liable to 
the severest punishment, at the w^ill of 
hireling overseers, without even the form 
of a trial. The impulses of passion are 
never restrained in him by that dread of 
infamy and disgrace, which operates so 
powerfully in deterring freemen from the 
commission of acts criminal or disho- 
nourable; and he is ever ready to indulge 



( 46 ) 

with avidity in the most beastly intem- 
perance, conscious that nothing can dis- 
grace him in the estimation of the world. 
His reason, beclouded as it is, tells him 
that to hold him in slavery is a violation 
of his natural rights; and, considering 
himself as entitled to full remuneration 
for his labour, he does not regard it as a 
fault, to appropriate any part of his mas- 
ter's property to his own use. He looks 
upon the whole white population as par- 
ticipating in the wrongs he endures; and 
never scruples to revenge himself by de- 
stroying their property; and is never de- 
terred from the commission of theft, ex- 
cept by fear of the punishment conse- 
quent on detection. The demoralizing 
influence of the indiscriminate inter- 
course of the sexes, among our slave po- 
pulation, needs only to be hinted at, to 
be understood. Can it be expected, sir, 
or will it be contended, that when so large 
a mass of the population of the country is 
corrupt, that the other classes can en- 
tirely escape the contagion? Sir, it is 
impossible: and the dissolute habits of a 
large number of our citizens, especially 



( 47 ) 

of the very poorest class, is too notorious 
to be denied; and the cause of it is too 
obvious to be disputed. Far be it from 
me, Mr. Speaker, to assert that virtue 
and morality cannot at all exist among 
the free, where slavery is allowed, or that 
there are not many high-minded, ho- 
nourable, virtuous, and patriotic indi- 
viduals even in those parts of the state, 
where the slaves are most numerous. I 
know there are many such. I only con- 
tend, that it is impossible in the nature 
of things, that slaves can be virtuous and 
moral; and that their vices must have, to 
some extent, an influence upon the mo- 
rals of the free. There is another, and, 
perhaps, a less questionable evil, grow- 
ing out of the existence of slavery in this 
•country, which cannot have escaped the 
observation, nor failed to have elicited the 
profound regrets of every patriotic and 
reflecting individual in the assembly. I 
allude, sir, to the prevalent and almost 
universal indisposition of the free popu- 
lation, to engage in the cultivation of the 
soil, that species of labour, upon which 
the prosperity of every country chiefly 



( 48 ) 

depends. That being the species of la- 
bour in which slaves are usually em- 
ployed, it is generally regarded as a 
mark of servitude, and, consequently, as 
degrading and disreputable. It follows, 
of course, that the entire population of 
the state must be supported by the la- 
bour of that half which is in slavery: and 
it will hardly be denied, that it is to this 
circumstance, principally, if not solely, 
that we are to ascribe the astonishing con- 
trast between the prosperity of the non- 
slave-holding, and slave-holding states of 
this Union. How many cases do we see 
around us, of men in moderate circum- 
stances, who, too proud to till the earth 
with their own hands, are gradually 
.wasting away their small patrimonial es- 
tates, and raising their families in habits 
of idleness and extravagance? How 
many young men, who, were it not for 
the prevailing prejudices of the country, 
might gain an honourable and honest sub- 
sistence by cultivating the soil, instead of 
attempting to force themselves into pro- 
fessions already crowded to excess, in 
order to obtain a precarious subsistence? 



49 ) 

And how many of these do we see resort 
to intemperance to drown reflection^ 
when want of success has driven them to 
despair? We learn from those who have 
had ample means of deciding, that the 
situation of the yeomanry of the middle 
and northern states, is, in every respect, 
different from that of the same class of 
people in the slave-holding states. There 
the farmer cultivates his land with his 
own hands, which produces all the ne- 
cessaries, and many of the comforts of 
life in abundance. He rears up his chil- 
dren in habits of industry, unexposed to 
the allurements of vice, and, instead of 
being a burden, they assist him in his 
labours. If, sir, we compare the face of 
the country in^ Virginia, with that of the 
northern states, we shall find the result 
greatly to the disadvantage of the for- 
mer. We shall see the old dominion, 
though blessed by nature, with all the 
advantages of climate, a fruitful soil, and 
fine navigable bays and rivers, gradually 
declining in all that constitutes national 
wealth. In that part of the state below 
tide-water; the whole face of the country 

5 



( 50 ) 

wears an appearance of almost utter de- 
solation, distressing to the beholder. 
Tall and thick forests or pines are every 
where to be seen encroaching upon the 
once cultivated fields, and casting a deep 
gloom over the land^ which looks as if 
nature mourned over the misfortunes of 
men. The very spot on which our an- 
cestors landed, a little more than two 
hundred years ago, appears to be on the 
eve of again becoming the haunt of wild 
animals. No man can doubt, sir, that 
the deterioration in the appearance of 
the country, is owing mainly to the care- 
less manner in which the soil is cultivated 
by slaves, and the indolence of the white 
population: nor can we hesitate to as-. 
cribe the flourishing condition of the 
non-slave-holding states, which are every 
where covered with highly cultivated 
farms, thriving villages, and an industri- 
ous white population^ to the absence of 
slavery. 

A third consequence of slavery is, that 
it detracts from the ability of a country 
to defend itself against foreign aggression. 
Every slave occupies the place of a free- 



( 51 ) 

man, and if we regard them merely as 
neutrals, they impair the force of the 
state in full proportion to their numbers. 
But we cannot rationally regard them as 
neutrals, for the desire of freedom is so 
deeply implanted in the human breast, 
that no time or treatment can entirely 
eradicate it, and they will always be dis- 
posed to avail themselves of a favourable 
opportunity of asserting their natural 
rights. It will, consequently, be neces- 
sary to employ a certain proportion of the 
efficient force of the whites to keep them 
in subjection. What that proportion will 
be, I will not undertake exactly to deter- 
mine; but it may be safely assumed, that^ 
wherever the slaves are as numerous as 
the whites, it will require one-half of the 
effective force of the latter to keep them 
quiet; and such is the fact as to the whole 
of eastern Virginia. And in those coun- 
ties, such as Amelia, Nottoway, Greens- 
ville, Charles City, King William, and 
some others, in which the slaves are more 
than double as numerous as the whites, 
the force of the latter, as to defence 
.against an invading army, may be consi- 



( 52 ) 

dered as wholly inefficient. And; for the 
same reasons, the counties of Brunswick, 
Charlotte, Mecklenburg, and many 
others, in w^hich the slaves are nearly 
twice as numerous as the w^hites, could 
spare no part of their forces to contend 
against an invasion of the state. I hope, 
sir, that my mentioning the counties I 
have enumerated, and the proportions of 
their different kinds of inhabitants, will 
not be attributed to any disposition in me 
to show the slightest disrespect either to 
the people of those counties, or their re- 
presentatives, on this floor. I am con- 
tending that where the proportion of 
slaves to the freemen, is as great as it is 
in those counties, (and I can satisfactorily 
show that it will be so throughout the 
states in less than thirty years, unless we 
do something to get clear of the former,) 
that it wholly incapacitates a country 
for defence against a foreign enemy, and 
I mention those counties by way of il- 
lustrating my argument. And, Mr. 
Speaker, I think it can hardly be con- 
tended, that I have estimated the force 
necessary for keeping the slaves in sub- 



{ 53 ) 

jection too high, when it is recollected 
that they are intimately acquainted with 
all the secret passes, strong holds, and 
fastnesses, of the country; and being re- 
strained by no moral or patriotic con- 
siderations, will ever be ready to act as 
guides to an invading foe, and to flock to 
his standard whenever he may be dis- 
posed to tempt them to it, by holding 
out the strongest temptation which can 
ever be presented to the human mind — 
namely, the possession of liberty. 

It must be remembered, too, that we 
may often have enemies who will not be 
too magnanimous to avail themselves of 
advantages which cost them nothing. If 
t)ur enemies should be of that description 
of men, who are but little disposed to per- 
form their engagements in good faith, 
they will be tempted to seduce our slaves 
from our possession, not only for the pur- 
pose of injuring us, and adding to their 
own strength, but for the more criminal 
object of making a profitable speculation, 
by disposing them in the West India mar- 
ket. The conduct of the British armies 
and their commanders during the last 

5^ 



( 54 ) 

war, and that of the revolution, proves 
that the latter motive, disgraceful as it is, 
has not failed to have its full operation. 

I will now briefly advert to another 
consequence of slavery, which is highly 
detrimental to the commonwealth, which 
is, that it retards and prevents the in- 
crease of the white population of the state. 
As a proof of this, I may direct your atten- 
tion to the simple fact; that, in the whole 
district of country lying on the east of 
the Blue Ridge, the white population 
has increased but 61,332 in forty years, 
much less than either of the cities of New 
York and Philadelphia has increased in 
the same length of time. The great ef- 
fect of slavery in retarding the growth 
of population will be made manifest by 
comparing the number of inhabitants in 
Virginia with the number in New York 
at different periods. In 1790, the popu- 
lation of Virginia was, at least, from two 
to three times as great as that of New 
York. In 1830, the whole population of 
Virginia was 1 ,216,299; that of New York 
was 1,934,409. From which it appears, 
that the inhabitants of New York have 



( 55 ) 

increased at least ^ve or six times as ra- 
pidly as tlie inhabitants of Virginia; and 
the former has one-third more inhabitants 
than the latter at this time^ notwithstand- 
ing the territorial extent of the former is 
one-third less than thatof the latter. If we 
compare the population of the other slave- 
holding with thatof the non-slave-holding 
states^ we shall find similar results arising 
from the same cause; and if we institute 
the same sort of comparison betw^een 
some of our oldest and thickest settled 
counties and some of the counties in the 
eastern states^ we shall find that the in- 
habitants of the former never exceed 
thirty-nine^ w^hilst those of the latter 
amount to from one to tw^o hundred to 
the square mile. These facts are within 
the knowledge, or reach, of every mem- 
ber of this house; and those who have at- 
tended to the facts I have stated, as to 
the carelessness of the slaves in culti- 
vating the soil, and the indolence of the 
whites, in all slave-holding countries, can 
readily account for the difference which 
exists as to population, between the slave- 
holding and non-slave-holding states. 



( 56 ) 

Having novv^ sir, (in a most imperfect 
manner, I admit,) attempted to depict 
some of the many evils of slavery which 
we already experience, let us inquire 
what must be the ultimate consequence 
of retaining them among us. To my mind, 
the answer to this inquiry must be both 
obvious and appalling. It is, sir, that 
the time will come, and at no distant day, 
w^hen we shall be involved in all the hor- 
rors of a servile war, which will not end 
until both sides have suffered much; un- 
til the land shall every where be red with 
human blood, and until the slaves or the 
w^hites be totally exterminated. Shall I 
be told, sir, that these are unfounded ap- 
prehensions? that they are nothing but 
the exaggerations of a heated imagina- 
tion? Such a reply v/ill not convince me 
that I am in error, nor satisfy that nume- 
rous class of our fellow-citizens who con- 
cur in the opinions I have expressed. 
Let not gentlemen " put the flattering 
unction to their souls,'' that it is the voice 
of fear, not of reason, which is calling on 
them, from every quarter of this common- 
wealth, to remove from the land the hea- 



( 57 ) 

vy curse of slavery. If, sir, gentlemen 
will listen to the remark I am about to 
make on this branch of the subject, I 
humbly hope that I shall succeed in sa- 
tisfying them, if there be any truth in 
history, and if the time have not arrived 
when causes cease to produce their legi- 
timate results, that the dreadful catastro- 
phe in which our slave system must re- 
sult, if persisted in, is as inevitable as any 
event which has not already transpired. 
I lay it down as a maxim not to be dis- 
puted, that our slaves, like all the rest of 
the human race, are now, and will ever 
continue to be, actuated by the desire of 
liberty, and it is equally certain, that 
whenever the proportion of slaves in this 
state, to our white population, shall have 
become so great as to inspire them with 
the hope of being able to throw off the 
yoke, that then an effort will be made by 
them to effect that object. What the 
proportion between the slaves and the 
freemen must be which will imbolden 
the former to make such an attempt, it is 
not material for me to inquire; for if it 
be admitted that any disproportion, how- 
ever great, will have that effect, it is sus- 



( 58 ) 

ceptible of the clearest demonstration^ 
that it must be made within a period so 
shortj that many of us may expect to wit- 
ness it. And I need not go into an in- 
quiry whether or not such an attempt 
can, at any time, or under any circum- 
stances, be attended with success; for it 
is certain, that whenever it is made, it 
will be the beginning of a servile war; 
and from what we know of human nature 
generally, and from what we hear of the 
spirit manifested by both parties in the 
late Southampton rebellion, it is very 
evident that such a war must be one of 
extermination, happen when it will. 

Taking it for granted that the position 
I have taken cannot be shaken or contro- 
verted, I proceed to make a statement of 
facts, and to submit a table I have made 
out, containing several calculations, show- 
ing the relative increase of the white and 
coloured population in eastern Virginia, 
and in the counties of Brunswick and Ha- 
lifax in the last forty years, to the consi- 
deration of the house; and from which I 
expect to be able to prove very satisfac- 
torily, 1st., that the coloured population 
are rapidly gaining on the whites; 2dlyj 



( 59 ) 

that this gain must be more rapid in time 
to come than it has been in times past; 
and, 3dly, that in a short period the pro- 
portion of the slaves to the whites, must 
become so great that the consequences 
which I have predicted, and which are 
so much to be deprecated, must ensue. 



In 1790, the population of eastern Virginia 


was of whites .... 


314,523 


coloured 


289,425 


In 1830, it was whites 


375,855 


coloured 


457,013 


Increase in 40 years of whites 


61,332 


coloured • . • . , 


167,588 


Majority of whites in 1790 


25,098 


coloured, 1830 - . , . 


81,078 


Gain of coloured in 40 years 


106,176 



If both kinds of population continue to 
increase in the same ratio for the next 
40 years, the population of East Virginia 

will be in 1870, whites .... 449,147 

coloured 722,080 

Majority of coloured . . • . 272,933 

The population of Brunswick county was in 1790 

whites • 5,919 

coloured 6,908 

In 1830, it was of whites • . . 5,397 

coloured .•••.• 10,370. 

Decrease of whites in 40 years . . . 522 
nearly eqvial to 9 per cent. 

Increase of coloured . . . . , 3,464 



( 60 ) 

equal to 50 per cent- 
Gain of coloured in 40 years . . . 3,986 

Should the whites decrease^ and the co- 
loured increase;^ for 40 years to come, in 
the same ratio, the population will then 
stand thus: 

Whites ...... 4,912 

Coloured 15,558 

The coloured being, at that time, more 
than three times as numerous as the whites. 



In 1790, Halifax had, whites 



8,931 



coloured ...... 5,791 

In 1830, whites 12,915 

coloured 15,117 

Increase in 40 years, of whites . . 3,984 

equal to 44 per cent, 

of coloured ^ 9,326 

equal to 161 per cent. 

Gain of coloured in 40 years . . . 5,344 

If both increase in the same ratio, to the 
year 1870, the population will stand thus: 

Wliites . ..... 18,597 

Coloured .•♦... 39,455 

or two coloured to one white, 

A part of the table I have just read, 
Mr. Speaker, is extracted from the pe- 
tition referred to your select committee, 
from the county of Hanover. I have al- 
ready stated that there arc several coun- 



( 61 ) 

ties in the state, in which the slaves arc 
twice, and many others in which they 
are thrice as numerous as the whites; and 
it would be very easy to show, that if 
the two kinds of population increase in 
the same ratio for the next that they 
have done for the last forty years, the 
slaves will, at the end of that time, be 
from three to five times as numerous as 
the whites, in those counties. 

But, sir, having said enough to satisfy 
any reasonable man, that the slaves are 
rapidly gaining on the whites, I shall 
now endeavour to show, beyond contro- 
versy, that they must gain upon them 
much more rapidly in time to come, than 
they have done in time past. The po- 
pulation of every country, must, of neces- 
sity, be limited to the means of subsistence 
which it affords, and, of course, there 
can be no increase of population in coun- 
tries in which the inhabitants are so nu- 
merous as to consume all the means of 
subsistence which it can be made to pro- 
duce. The population of China has long 
been stationary, not being greater now 
than it was a thousand or two thousand 

6 



( 62 ) 

years ago. In other old settled countries^ 
such as Holland, France, and many parts 
of Germany and Italy, the increase of 
population is scarcely perceptible. In 
new countries, in which provisions are 
abundant, like the states of Ohio, Indi- 
ana, and some others, population doubles 
itself in from ten to twelve years; and in 
the whole United States it doubles itself 
in about twenty-five or thirty years, as 
has been ascertained from actual enume- 
ration, independent of emigration from 
abroad. 

The means of subsistence in every 
country, consists almost exclusively of 
the products of the soil, and the quantity 
of those products depends very much 
upon the manner in which the soil is cul- 
tivated. England, for example, sustains 
three times as many inhabitants, owing 
to its high state of cultivation as it would 
do, if cultivated as lands are in Virginia. 
And every country in which all the in- 
habitants are free, will sustain double as 
great a population as one in which slavery 
exists. In attempting, then, to ascertain 
what number of inhabitants Virginia will 



( 63 ) 

maintain, we are not to be governed by 
the number of inhabitants to the square 
mile, in countries in which agriculture 
is carried to the highest perfection, but 
by the amount of the necessaries of life 
which can be drawn from the soil by our 
mode of cultivation. Estimating the po- 
pulation which Virginia, or rather that 
part of it lying east of the Blue Ridge, will 
support, upon that principle, it is per- 
fectly apparent it can never sustain more 
than one-third in addition to its present 
population. The whole number of inha- 
bitants in eastern Virginia, according to 
the census of 1830, is 832,868: by add- 
ing one-third to this number, I ascertain 
the whole number of inhabitants which 
eastern Virginia can support, 1,110,490. 
That this estimate is sufficiently high, is 
proved by the fact, that there are seven- 
teen counties in that part of the state, 
which have a smaller population now 
than they had forty years ago, that there 
are as many others which have scarcely 
increased at all in that period, and pro- 
bably many more which have decreased 
in the last ten or twenty years. And 



( 64 ) 

the additional fact furnished by the state* 
ment made out by the auditor for the 
convention, that in the two great eastern 
divisions of the state, from the Bkie 
Ridge to the ocean, the ratio of increase 
has been but a very small fraction of one 
per cent, per annum, for many years past. 
Again, sir, it has been ascertained with 
great certainty, that the whole slave po- 
pulation in the United States, increases 
at the rate of two and a half per cent, a 
year, and doubles itself in about twenty- 
eight years. Supposing the whole co- 
loured population of eastern Virginia 
doubles itself in that period, it will in 
the year 1851 amount to 914,026, or 
more than the entire population of that 
part of the state at present, and within 
196,474 of as many as it can ever con- 
tain: consequently, there will then be 
but one white to every five coloured in- 
habitants in that portion of the common- 
wealth. 

But I may be asked why I assume that 
the coloured population is to continue to 
increase as heretofore, and that the white 
will decrease as the coloured advances. 



( 65 ) 

To such a question I should reply, Be- 
cause the checks upon the increase of 
population growing out of the want of 
the means of subsistence, operate exclu- 
sively upon the white people. One of 
the immediate effects of the want of 
means of subsistence in all thickly settled 
countries, is that it so limits the number 
of marriages, that the number of children 
born scarcely ever exceeds the number 
of deaths in any given period. How far 
this cause operates in eastern Virginia, 
we may judge from the past, that, not- 
withstanding the entire white population 
of that part of the state, was greater by 
96,600, in 1820, than that of western 
Virginia, yet the number of whites under 
five years old was two thousand greater 
in 1830, in western than in eastern Vir- 
ginia. I will mention another fact, which 
proves conclusively that this cause does 
not at all retard the growth of our co-^ 
loured population, and will show its ef- 
fects as to both kinds of population in a 
very striking point of view: it is, that, 
according to the census of 1830, the whole 
number of the coloured population in 

6^ 



( 66 ) 

eastern Virginia, under ten years of age, 
was upwards of 155,000, whilst the num~ 
ber of whites, of a corresponding age, 
was but little over 110,000, making a 
difference in favour of the former of 
nearly 45,000. Another of the imme- 
diate checks upon the increase of popu- 
lation in densely inhabited countries, 
arising from the want of means of subsist- 
ence, is the number of poor persons who 
perish, in times of great scarcity, from 
hunger. If there ever be any of the inha- 
bitants of this state who perish from want, 
they must belong to the poorer classes of 
white people, who have no person, able 
to relieve them, interested in preserving 
their lives. The slave is always secure 
from this danger; the master being always 
prompted by motives of interest to sell, 
if not able to support him. Another, 
and a principal check upon the increase 
of the population of this state, is the im- 
mense emigration from it. This check 
has hitherto operated pretty equally upon 
all classes of our inhabitants, and the gain 
of the blacks has not been greater than can 
readily be accounted for upon other prin- 



( 67 ) 

ciples which I have mentioned already. 
But^ sir, the time has come when the 
emigration must he confined ahnost ex- 
chisively to the white population. All 
the states of the Union will ever continue 
open to such of our white people as may 
choose to enter them. On the other hand, 
many of these states have been long closed 
against our coloured population; and even 
the southern states, to which, in times past 
so many thousands of slaves have been car- 
ried have at length become alarmed at the 
immense number of slaves among them, 
and are taking decisive measures for pre- 
venting any more of them being carried 
there in future. The legislature of Lou- 
isiana has recently passed an act to ex- 
clude slaves from that state, under very 
severe penalties. The gentleman from 
Mecklenburg (Mr. Goode) attributed the 
passage of that act to the action of this 
assembly, at its present session, upon the 
subject of slaves; but, unfortunately for 
that idea, the act of the legislature of 
Louisiana was passed a short time before 
this legislature convened. I also learn 
from the newspapers, that the legislatures 



( 68 ) 

of Alabama^ Georgia, Kentuckyj and the 
rest of the slave-holding states, are about 
to adopt the same policy with Louisiana. 
The market for slaves may be considered, 
then, as closed for ever, and the inevita- 
ble consequence will be, that the blacks 
will continue to increase without any 
check whatsoever; the slave-holders will 
be compelled, in order to find them em- 
ployment, to drive off their poor wiiite 
tenants from their lands; the small slave- 
holders will be compelled to sell out and 
remove, until, in the course of some twen- 
ty or thirty years, the disproportion be- 
tween the blacks and the wiiites, will 
become so great, that the slaves will at- 
tempt to recover their liberty, and then 
the consequences which I have predict- 
ed, and which are so much to be depre- 
cated, will inevitably ensue. 



t ^9 ) 



-GENERAL REFLECTIONS ON WHAT HAS 
BEEN ADVANCED. 

From what has been said in the fore- 
going speech of Mr. Moore, and from 
the cases of cruelty already enumerated, 
it is plainly to be seen in what great dif- 
ficulties our country is involved; and, 
that the holding of slaves is not only sin- 
ful, unjust, inhumlkn, and immoral, but 
impolitic in the highest degree. It is a 
heavy curse that hangs over our country; 
a shame and disgrace to a Rebublican 
Government; a blot or foul stain on the 
fair face of our boasted land of liberty. 
All orations on liberty should cease, 
while two millions of our fellow beings 
are groaning in slavery under more than 
Egyptian bondage. The accursed thing 
is in the land, though not hidden in the 
camp, as it was in the days of Joshua; 
and if something be not speedily done to 
deliver us from the evil, it will, ere long, 
be the downfall of our Republic. The 



( 70 ) 

Israelites were greatly oppressed, when 
in Egypt, by the imposition of heavy 
tasks; but we do not read of their being 
shot, whipped, burnt, or starved to 
death, as the slaves have been in this 
country — but the Israelites cried unto 
God in their afflictions, and he relieved 
them. Just so it will probably be in 
our country, the hand of the Lord is not 
slackened, neither will he turn a deaf 
ear to the groans of the afflicted. The 
cries of the poor distressed slaves have 
no doubt ascended up unto God, and he 
will, in his appointed time, enable them, 
like the Israelites, to march with a high 
hand, and " spoil the Egyptian.'' Be- 
sides the cruelties mentioned in the be- 
ginning of this work,— we read in dif- 
ferent authors on this subject, that in 
some places it is customary for the 
owners to brand their names, with 
a red hot iron, on the foreheads of the 
slaves, and, also, make them work, 
chained constantly to a heavy weight, 
to prevent them from running away, — 
that some have been muzzled like the 
ox, to prevent them from eating the fruity 



( 71 ) 

or drinking the juice of the cane, &c. — 
that some masters have tied their slaves 
to a tree or post, and compelled their fel- 
low slaves to flog them. — And that some 
have been tied fast to the tails of horses, 
and thus dragged along violently, and 
flogged until they have expired. In 
short, every kind of cruelty has been 
exercised upon them that the most brutal 
tyranny could desire, or savage barbarity 
invent. And what is the reason of all 
this? why, because, (as Cowper ironi- 
cally observes,) ^Uhey are guilty of be- 
ing born with a coloured skin,^^ — and 
hence many conclude, that they are in- 
tended by nature to be made subservient 
to those who have the good fortune to 
be born white. But this kind of absurd 
reasoning is a reproach on the great Cre- 
ator, who has made all mankind equal in 
every respect whatever; although he has 
been pleased to give a variety of colours 
to the human species, just in like manner, 
as he has given different colours to the 
various tribes of animals, &c. Thus we 
And one horse black, and another white, 
&C.5 but we have never yet discovered, 



( 72 ) 

that the white horse has better blood in 
his veins than the black one^ or is prefe- 
rable to him in any respect whatever: or 
that a white cow is more valuable than 
a black one, &c. We have also every 
kind of colour among the various kinds 
of insects, vegetables, &c. &c. — for va- 
riety is the beauty of nature; but as for 
one colour being more beautiful than an- 
other, it is altogether in fancy; for what 
one person calls beauty, another calls de- 
formity; but custom, which makes most 
things agreeable, generally establishes a 
sort of standard of beauty. This was 
strikingly exemplified in the travels of 
Mungo Park, in the interior of Africa, 
(where black being the common colour of 
the human species, is therefore thought to 
be the most handsome:) he was generally 
viewed with astonishment, by all classes 
of people. At one place, in particular, 
the women having assembled around him, 
(it being the first time they had ever be- 
held a white man,) looked at him with 
surprise and wonder, and considered him 
a very odd, ill-looking man, having co- 
lour and features so very different from 



( 73 ) 

their own; one woman said, he was so 
ugly that it ahnost made her sick to look 
at him ! Thus we see that beauty exists, 
only in idea, or fancy; and this often 
changes by custom or fashion. We have 
a variety of shades in the colour of the 
human species, from what is termed 
white, to the deepest black; and it is 
only the Europeans, and their descen- 
dants in America, that are considered 
perfectly fair in complexion; for the in- 
habitants of all the other parts of the 
globe are more or less coloured. Thus 
the inhabitants of the polar regions, com- 
prehending the Laplanders, Greenland- 
ers, the people of Kamtschatka, the nor- 
thern Tartars, &c., are of a dark gray co- 
lour; the Ethiopians are tawny; the Egyp- 
tians, Chinese, Turks, and iVrabians, as 
also the inhabitants of the islands in the 
South Seas, &c., are more orless swarthy, 
but the negroes of Africa, together with 
the Gentoos, or natives of India, are of a 
deep black colour. This great variety 
that we observe in the colour and fea- 
tures of the human race, is said to be oc- 
casioned by the diifereut climates, toge-^ 

7 



( 74 ) 

ther with the different manners^ customs, 
&c., peculiar to each: at least, this is, 
perhaps, the most rational conclusion on 
the subject that has yet been given, al- 
though it has been discussed by the 
greatest philosophers of all ages and 
countries ! — iind there is no doubt of this, 
for we may easily perceive that those 
coloured people who are born here, have 
lighter complexions, and are of finer fea- 
tures than those who come immediately 
from Africa; the climate, food, customs, 
&c., producing this diflerence: and 
hence it follows, that, in a great length 
of time, they would become entirely 
white I 

But to return to the subject of slavery: 
if all who are coloured, either partially, 
or totally, throughout the whole world, 
were to be made slaves to the white po- 
pulation, then more than two-thirds of the 
whole human race would be subjected to 
servitude; which would be considered 
not only sinful or unjust, but also en- 
tirely impracticable; and if it be so in the 
whole, it is also in part. 

Many persons, for want of information 



( 75 ) 

on this subject, and not knowing in what 
manner the slaves have been treated, 
have conchided that they are an igno- 
rant and indolent people, and, therefore, 
incapable of acting and providing for 
themselves; and, consequently, that they 
are more happy when under subjection, 
than w^hen they enjoy freedom. But 
this absurd reasoning, in justification of 
slavery, is not worth a refutation; for 
although we were to suppose for a mo- 
ment, that all the slaves in the different 
states were used well in every respect, 
and treated in the most friendly manner 
by their masters, yet no kindness what- 
ever, no favours they could possibly be- 
stow, would compensate for the loss of 
liberty. In a state of servitude, they 
never could become a people of any con- 
sequence, and never could make any 
proficiency in the arts and sciences; but 
their minds would lie dormant, like mar- 
ble in the quarry, for want of cultivation; 
neither would an education be of much 
advantage to them, even if they had an 
opportunity of acquiring it, as it would 
show tliem more plainly the wretched 



( 76 ) 

state they are in; and by that means ren- 
der them more discontented with their 
condition. It is said that the women 
who are confined in the harem or Turk- 
ish seraglio, although they are treated 
kindly, and enjoy most of the necessaries 
of life, having slaves to attend them, and 
being exempt from every kind of labour, 
yet languish after freedom and ease, and 
pine away in secret. And Addison 
very justly observes, that ^^a day, or 
even an hour of virtuous liberty, is worth 
a whole eternity of bondage.'^ 

Now, let us reverse the condition of 
the slaves for a moment, and suppose 
that we were the slaves and they our 
masters! how would that relish! we would 
no doubt consider it the greatest evil 
that could possibly be inflicted upon us 
by man; yet if we were willing to go ac- 
cording to the gospel rule, of doing as 
we would be done by, w^e must acknow- 
ledge that there is as much justice in the 
one case as in the other. Therefore 
every wise and good man, every philan- 
thropist, every man who has the least 
claim to sympathy or humanity, every 



( 77 ) 

true republican^ or well-wisher to his 
country, and particularly every minister 
of the gospel, should set his hce against 
slavery, and hold it in the utmost abhor- 
rence. Why, then, do not those who pro- 
fess to be preachers of the gospel in the 
southern states, address their congrega- 
tions on the subject of slavery, and endea- 
vour to convince them of the great impro- 
priety of holding slaves? Are they afraid 
of losing their salaries or being driven out 
of the pulpit? or stoned by the people? 
if this be the case, and they suffer them- 
selves to ^^ wear the mark of the beast, 
in order that they may buy and. sell," 
they are not fit to preach at all. A 
truly righteous man, who puts his whole 
trust in God, does not fear what men can 
do, for he ^^ need not fear them that kill 
the body,'' but w^ill always strive to do 
his duty in all things, let the consequences 
be wbat they may. 

I now proceed to the important ques- 
tion or subject of emancipation. 



7* 



( 78 ) 



EMANCIPATION. 

Supposing all the slave-holders in the 
southern states^ were ready and willing 
to give up their slaves, or to set them 
free, then the great question arises what 
is to be done with them, or in what man- 
ner, or how are they to be supported \ 
sevxral plans have already been devised 
for that purpose, but they all seem to be 
very objectionable. The first was to 
colonize them in Liberia, in Africa : but 
this plaa has proved so very unsuccessful, 
that it is unnecessary to dwell long on it; 
for it is well known that Mr. Garrison, (in 
a work written expressly on the subject,) 
and Mr. David Paul Brown, in an elo- 
quent speech delivered at the Musical 
Fund Hall, have both proved to the satis- 
faction of every reasonable person, that 
this plan is not only unjust and inhuman, 
but entirely impracticable, or totally in- 
sufficient to produce the desired effect; 
that the colonization society have been 



( ''9 ) 

at a vast expense, and at the end of 14 
years from its commencement, the colo- 
ny consists only of about 2000 inhabi- 
tants, and that the society are involved 
in a debt amounting to upwards of 40,000 
dollars; that it would take 100 ships 20 
years at the enormous expense of 2,000, 
000 dollars per annum, to ship off the 
free people of colour only; and that the 
increase during this time, would proba- 
bly be equal to the present amount, 
which is said to be about 500,000. 

But the climate of Liberia is extreme- 
ly unhealthy, and it is said that about 
one-half of the colonists, (since the com- 
mencement of the settlement,) have pe- 
rished by the diseases peculiar to the 
country, and this alone, independent of 
all others, is a sufficient objection to the 
plan. A second plan was projected some 
few years since — of sending the coloured 
people to the Island of Hayti; but this 
experiment, like the first, being liable to 
nearly all the same objections, soon failed, 
also. — By a law, enacted not long since, 
in the state of Ohio, the coloured people 
were sent out of that state; in consequence 



( 80- ) 

of which, many of them emigrated to the 
British dominions in Upper Canada, to 
which place they were invited by the 
British: — But the adoption of this plan 
cannot be recommended, on account of 
its impolicy, both to the white and co- 
loured population of these states. First, 
to the latter, the coldness of the climate 
would be a material objection, as the 
greater part of the southern people 
would be unable to endure it, besides 
many other inconveniencies that might 
be mentioned. 2ndly, with regard to 
the former, it would be very impolitic, 
to send the coloured people to Upper 
Canada, where they might, in time, in- 
crease and become still more numerous, 
and, in case of a war between the United 
States and Great Britain, the evils that 
would result would soon be made mani- 
fest. 

The fourth plan, and the only remain- 
ing one that I have yet heard mentioned, 
is, to set the slaves all free, and let them 
hire with their former masters, or go 
where they choose; and this plan, at first 
sight, might seem a very pleasing one, 



( 81 ) 

but a little reflection on the subject, 
would soon show the great impropriety 
of it; — first, with regard to hiring with 
their masters, it cannot be expected 
that those masters, who were so cruel 
while they had the slaves under them, 
would suddenly, on setting their slaves 
free, become altered men, and be kind 
and humane. No; it is not to be expected. 
But there is no doubt that many slaves 
who have been kindly treated by their 
masters, would, on being set free, remain 
and hire with them. 

But, supposing all the masters should 
agree to hire all their men, and use them 
well, (which is not very likely to happen,) 
and as there are about tw^o millions of 
slaves altogether; and it is, also, known 
that one free man will do as much work 
as two slaves, because animated by the 
spirit of liberty, and the hope of re- 
ward, hence it follows that only one mil- 
lion of them would be wanted, and, of 
oourse, the other million would be with- 
out employment, and what would be the 
consequence? we would soon have them 
spread over all the northern states; and^ 



( 82 ) 

perhaps, have at least a hundred thou- 
sand of them in Philadelphia, and how- 
would they be supported? there is not 
work enough for those who are here 
already; therefore, the government must 
either make provision for them, (and a 
heavy tax it would be to support a mil- 
lion of people,) or they would be under 
the necessity of plundering, or starving; 
so that this method would be no better 
than those already considered. 

But there yet remains one plan which 
I have not yet heard spoken of, and which 
I consider the only one, consistent with 
good policy, benevolence, and humanity; 
and that is, (provided all the slave states 
would consent to give their slaves free,) 
let the general government make pro- 
vision for them and colonize them in the 
west: there is plenty of land between the 
Mississippi and Pacific Ocean, and the 
climate is generally healthy, and the soil 
productive; let all such as choose to re- 
main with their masters, do so; and let aH 
those who are now free in the different 
states, remain as they are, if they choose; 
but let the colony be a place of refuge^ 



83 ) 

a retreat, an independent home, for all 
those who are out of employment, or 
wish to emigrate there. And there they 
may become a great nation; a free and in- 
dependent people; a sister Republic; and 
in process of time a great trade may be 
opened between them and the United 
States: we will then possess their con- 
fidence, and in case of a war with any- 
foreign nation, they would be our friends, 
and we might mutually assist each other. 
They would then have great cause to re- 
joice in the Lord, (who makes all things 
w^ork in the end for good, to those who trust 
in him,) and be glad that they were 
brought from the unhealthy climate of 
Africa, and placed in this land of liberty, 
where they might have a full opportunity 
of hearing the gospel, cultivating the 
arts and sciences, and of becoming an. 
enlightened people. 



( 84 ) 



kB. short Address to the free People of 
Colour in the United States. 

Sons and daughters of Africa, I have 
long sympathized with you in your afflic- 
tions (and still more with your brethren 
in slavery) under your present state of 
degradation; and have most fervently de- 
sired that all good and benevolent men 
would unite in their most earnest endea- 
vours in order to better your condition, 
and promote your general interest and 
lasting welfare. I have travelled much 
amongst you for several years past, in the 
different states, and by that means have 
been divested of those prejudices that I 
formerly (in common with many more of 
the white people) have entertained 
against you. I have always observed, 
that in all places, where freedom has 
smiled upon you, that you have evinced 
strong powers of mind, and which only 



( 85 ) 

requires proper cultivation to enable yoica 
to excel in all the arts and sciences, and 
rival in profound erudition any other na- 
tion in the world. I have now in my 
possession, a printed copy of a letter, 
which was written and sent to Thomas 
Jefferson, by the late famous Benjamin 
Bannaker, who was a resident of the state 
of Maryland, near Ellicott's Mills. He 
was a self-taught astronomer, and made a 
number of almanacs, one of which was 
sent, in manuscript, as a present, in the 
said letter to Thomas Jefferson. The let- 
ter is clothed in beautiful language, and 
contains a most spirited address in behalf 
of his distressed brethren in slavery. Mr. 
Jefferson was pleased with the letter, 
wrote him a polite answer, and sent the 
almanac to the secretary of the Acade- 
my of Sciences at Paris, as a specimen 
of the great talents of a self-taught co- 
loured man. Jefferson, in this case, did 
justice, though upon another occasion he 
has asserted that the people of colour 
are destitute of common sense, and com- 
pares them to the ourang outang! — but 
whether this was said in justification of 

8 



( 86 ) 

slavery or not I cannot tell, but, through 
respect to his talents, I would doubt his 
sincerity on this head, though he has 
made as great a mistake in his project 
and recommendation of the gun-boat fleet 
that was constructed to guard our coasts 
from foreign depredations. It has like- 
wise been observed, that you possess an 
uncommon taste and ear for music — this 
I consider one of the most useful, pleasing, 
and agreeable of all the sciences, when 
rightly employed, as its powers have been 
known to cure many diseases of the mind, 
and gives a savage breast the feelings of 
humanity. It also exalts the soul into rap- 
ture, and gives us the most exalted ideas 
of the Deity, who has created all man- 
kind equal in all respects, and has given 
no particular nation a superiority over 
the rest, in the natural endowments of 
wisdom and knowledge. But notwith- 
standing these natural advantages, which 
we acknowledge you possess in common 
with all the rest of mankind, yet there is 
one vice or failing amongst you, that pre- 
dominates throughout the country, but 
more particularly among the lower class- 



( 87- ) 

es. — I mean the destructive vice of envy. 
This I know to be a fact, by experience^ 
and my opinion has been still more con- 
firmed by respectable people of colour, 
who have assured me, that many of their 
colour, would much sooner encourage an 
Irishman, who keeps a dram shop, gro- 
cery, or store of any kind, than one of 
their own people, — and, farther, that 
when several families were living toge- 
ther in one house, and one happening to 
have better furniture than the rest, they 
have earnestly wished that the constable 
might come and seize on that neighbour's 
furniture, (which they considered better 
than their own,) and reduce him to po- 
verty. — And I have seen the constable 
in the street, bribe some of your colour 
with money to kidnap their own bre- 
thren! — I also know an old woman in 
Shippen Street, of the name of Gundy, 
who declared to me that she had been 
struck on the head with a brick-bat, (by 
a worthless drunken girl of her own co- 
lour,) which had nearly deprived her of 
life, and confined her to her bed for three 
months. This girl was arrested and put 



( 88 ) 

in confinement, but previously, on being 
asked by the magistrate the reason of 
such conduct, or why she did so, she 
said she had no ill-will against the old 
woman, but that she was hired to do it 
by the promise of a quart of whiskey, by 
some wicked coloured people, who were 
jealous of the old woman, because she 
sold more pepperpot than they did. — 
Now these are all facts. Jealousy and 
envy seem predominant passions; they 
operate much against you; they are the 
principal cause of your misery and dis- 
tress; they prevent you from becoming 
a prosperous people, and from being re- 
spected in the eyes of the world, " for a 
kingdom divided against itself cannot 
stand: they were the principal cause of 
your being first brought into slavery; for 
it is well known, that the princes of the 
different states of Africa, frequently wage 
, war with each other, and those who con- 
quer, through envy, jealousy, and the 
spirit of revenge, sell their prisoners to 
those kidnapping companies (of the dif- 
ferent nations) who are base enough to 
purchase them, and thus they are brought 
into captivity. You must endeavour to 



89 ) 

be more united, for it is an old saying, and 
a true one that God helps those who help 
themselves; but whilst you are at vari- 
ance with each other, you must not ex- 
pect assistance from any. 

The native Indians are true to each 
other, and it would be extremely diffi- 
cult to enslave them. The passion of 
envy arises from ignorance and supersti- 
tion, which can only be extirpated or 
banished, by the substitution of know- 
ledge, learning, and virtue. A good edu- 
cation, is, therefore, of the utmost con- 
sequence to your physical and moral wel- 
fare, not only in this life, but it lays the 
foundation of your happiness in the world 
to comcc You should frequently read 
the scriptures, and make the divine law 
the particular rule of all your actions, 
for it is the basis on which all human 
laws should be founded. Train up your 
children to habits of industry, and give 
them religious knowledge early in life : 
this will save them from numerous snares 
and temptations that will hereafter beset 
them; teach them benevolence and hu- 
manity; cultivate in their minds the love 

8^ 



( 90 ) 

(&f truth, and impress them with the duty 
of ^^ doing as they would be done by/^ in 
all respects; teach them to obey their 
parents, and to be kind and affectionate 
to each other. Improve their minds by 
an extensive reading of good books, and 
books of general information, let them 
read the history of all nations, voyages, 
travels, and the biographies of wise and 
good men: let them study geography, 
chymistry, and the science of medicine; 
give them a just idea of liberty and the 
rights of man. In short, enlarge their 
minds with every kind of useful know- 
ledge, and they shall become honourable 
and useful members of society, instruct 
them in the whole duties of religion, and 
their deaths shall be happy. 

Some of your white friends have en- 
deavoured to impress upon your minds, 
the great utility of learning the dead lan- 
guages, and several meetings were held 
at Bethel church for the purpose of 
raising a class of pupils to study the La- 
tin and Greek; but I beg leave to differ 
in opinion from my white brethren in 
regard to the propriety of such an in- 



( 91 ) 

stitution, for I believe there are other 
kinds of learning much more useful. A 
certain judicious writer (supposed to be 
-Benjamin Franklin) has observed, that 
the ^^dead languages are no longer of 
much use, but that their best days are 
over, like old continental money; that 
there was a time, (when all learning was 
wrapped up in those languages,) which 
made the knowledge of them indispensa- 
ble, but now the case is quite different: 
we have the best works of all languages 
translated into English. ^^ Therefore, it 
would be the height of folly, and also 
raispent time, for people of moderate cir- 
stances, to waste 4 or 5 years (and of 
course neglecting more useful learning,) 
in the attainment of Latin and Greek, 
which, after all their expense and la- 
bour, will avail but little. But it may 
be argued that the dead languages are 
particularly useful to those who are in- 
tended to become public speakers; such 
as lawyers, divines, &c.; that they give 
them a better knowledge of the English 
language, &c. I acknowledge that there 
is some truth in this; but it is asserted, 



( 92 ) 

that a more perfect knowledge of the 
English language can be acquired in half 
the time, by giving the whole attention 
to that alone. Nevertheless, I would 
not wish the dead languages entirely- 
neglected, but let such only as have 
plenty of leisure and ample fortunes still 
study them if they choose. The French 
and German languages are useful to the 
merchant and traveller; the former, in 
particular, is a polite, beautiful language, 
and becoming very popular. 

But I would direct your attention^ 
more particularly to a study which I 
consider far more useful in every point 
of view; and that is, the science of ma- 
thematics. It is the universal key to 
all human knowledge. And is acknow- 
ledged, by men of the greatest talents, to 
be the best logic in the world; it 
strengthens the mind, gives a habit of re- 
flection, and qualifies us for pursuing 
with advantage every other kind of 
study. 

Pure or abstract mathematics is the 
science of number and measure, and is 
usually divided into three parts; namely, 



( 93 ) 

^arithmetic, (which includes algebra,) 
geometry and Fluxions; and the practical 
branches are the application of these to 
practical purposes, such as mensuration, 
conic sections, surveying, navigation, 
astronomy, dialing, &c. 

The mathematics, are useful in draw- 
ing in perspective and architecture, and 
most mechanical trades, such as the 
carpenter, wheel-wright, mill-wright, 
&c. And even the tailor cuts out his 
garments, upon mathematical principles. 
The cells of a honey-comb are, also, 
formed upon principles of pure geo- 
metry, and they have been found, by 
actual mensuration, to be regular hexa- 
gons, being equilateral and equiangular. 
This construction of the cells is the most 
convenient that it is possible to make, 
in order to save time and materials, and 
the angles at the base have been deter- 
mined, by that part of fluxions, called 
the maxima and minima of quantities. 
^^ This geometry is not in the bee, but 
in the great Geometrician that made the 
bee, just as a child can make good mu- 
sic, by turning a hand-organ, without 



( 94 ) 

any knowledge of music. Mathematics 
is the soul of geography and astronomy, 
and an eminent writer has observed, 
that, ^^ the noblest employment of the 
mind of man, is the study of the works of 
his Creator:'^ astronomy is, therefore, the 
most useful and grand of all the sciences; 
for besides being so very serviceable in 
geography, navigation, (fee, it also opens 
to our minds the most enlarged views of 
the Creation, and fills us with the most 
sublime conceptions of its Author; it en- 
larges our very faculties, and raises us 
'' above the low contracted prejudices of 
the vulgar, and our understandings are 
clearly convinced, and affected with the 
power, wisdom, and superintendency of 
the Supreme Being/^ 

But I shall conclude, with remarking, 
that as Rochefaucault's little book of 
maxims, was said to reform the French 
nation, (and that what I have written is 
done through sincerity and friendship,) 
who knows, but that I may be made the 
humble instrument through this short ad- 
dress, of contributing in part to your last- 
ing welfare and happiness. 



A SEIiECTION OF HYIHIVS, &c. 



A THANKSGIVING HYMN, 

Father of earth and heaven ! 

Whose arm upholds creation! 
To thee we raise the voice of praise 

And bend in adoration. 

We praise the power that made us, 
We praise the love that blesses ; 

While every day that rolls away, 
Thy gracious care confesses. 

Life is from thee, bless'd Father, 
From thee our breathing spirits : 

And thou dost give to all that live, 
The bliss that each inherits. 

Day and night, and rolling seasons, 

And all that life embraces; 
With bliss are crowned, with joy abound, 

And claim our thankful praises. 

Though trial and affliction 

May cast their dark shade o'er us. 



( 96 ) 

Thy love doth throw a heavenly glow, 
Of life on all before us. 

That love has smil'd from heaven, 

To cheer our path of sadness; 
And lead the way, through earth's dull day^, 

To realms of endless gladness. 

That light of love and glory, ^ 

Has shown through Christ, Hlfe Saviour, . 
The holy guide, who lived and died, 

That we might live for ever. 

And since thy great compassion 

Thus brings thy children near thee; 

May we to praise, devote our days. 
And love as well as fear thee. 

And when death's final summons, 

From earth's dear scenes shall move us; 

From friends, from foes, from joys, from woeS) 
From all that know and love us. 

Oh! then let hope attend us! 

Thy peace to us be given! 
That we may rise above the skies, 

And sing thy praise in heaven. 



HYxMN FOR THE MORNING. 

On thee, each morning, my God! 
My wa) ing thoughts attend; 



^ ( 97 ) 

In whom are founded all my hopes. 
And all my wishes end. 

My soul, in pleasing wonder lost, 

Thy boundless love surveys; 
And fir'd with grateful zeal, prepares, 

Her sacrifice of praise. 

Thou lead'st me thro' the maze of sleep^ 
And bring'st^l^ safe to light; • 

And with the same paternal care,' 
Conduct'st my steps till night. 

*When ev'ning slumbers press mine eyes, 

With thy protection blest; 

In peace and safety I commit 

My wearied limbs to rest. 

My spirit, in thy hand secure, 

Fears no approaching ill; 
For, whether waking or asleep, 

Thou, Lord! art with me still. 

What fit return can I, weak flesh, 

Make to Almighty pow'rl 
For so much goodness, so much love I 

Such mercies every hour. 

I'll daily, to th' astonish'd world, 

His wondrous acts proclaim; 
Whilst all with me shall praises sing, 

'With me shall bless his name. 
At morn, at noon, at night, I'll still 
The growing work pursue; 
9 



(98 ■) 

And him alone will praise, to whom 
Alone all praise is due. 



EVENING HYMN. 

Indulgent God, whose bounteous care. 

O'er all thy works is shown, 
Oh! let my grateful praise ancF^ray'r 

Ascend before thy throne. 
What mercies has this day bestowed, 

How largely hast thou blest, 
My cup with plenty overflowed, 

And with content my breast. 

Safe, 'midst a thousand latent snares, 

Th}*- careful hand has led. 
And now, exempt from anxious cares, 

I press the downy bed. 

I fall this night into thy arms, 
Which I have prov'd so kind; 

Oh! keep my body from all harms, 
And from all sins my mind. 

Let balmy slumbers close my eyes, 
From pain and sickness free; 

And let my waking fancy rise, 
To meditate on thee. 

So bless each future day and night, 
'Till life's fond scene be o'er; 

And then, to realms of endless light, 
! aid my soul to soar. 



( 99 ) 



ON THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. 

Awake from silence every voice, 

Each cheerful pipe and sounding string; 

Let ev'ry grateful heart rejoice, 
And every tongue in rapture sing. 

On this distinguished day of grace, 
Th' eternal Prince of glory came, 

To purge the guilt of human race, 
And save them by his powerful name. 

Bow down your heads, ye lofty pines. 
Ye mountains crownM with cedars tallj 

Be still, ye rude, imperious winds, 
Throughout the wide terrestrial ball. 

Let naught but harmony and love 
O'er all th' expanded surface reign; 

And let the sacred choir above. 

Approve, and join the heav'nly strain. 

When we in bondage were exil'd, 
And rebels to th' eternal God, 

Our souls, with blackest guilt defiled, 
Obnoxious to th' impending rod. 

That from his seat of perfect bliss. 
The Son of glory should descend; 

To offer man the terms of peace. 
And his unbounded grace extend. 



( 100 ) 

Such goodness, such stupendous grace! 

Nor men, nor angels, can explore; 
"Then let us, what we cannot trace. 

With awful reverence adore. 

Ye wing'd inhabitants of air, 

AH ye that graze the verdant plain; 

Ye herds, that to the wilds repair. 
And ye that skim the surging main, 

Some signs of exultation show. 

While grateful minds your voices raise; 
'Tis all that mortals can below, 

To hail the day in songs of praise. 

While skilful hands the chorus join. 
And tune the rapture raising lyre, 

While grateful strains of love divine. 
Serene extatic joys inspire. 

Thus sacred be the happy day. 

While sun, and moon, and stars endure, 
Till nature feels her last decay. 

And time itself shall be no more. 



A HYMN.— Psalm Vlllth. 

Lord, how illustrious is thy name! 
Whose pow'r both heav'n and earth proclaim; 
When I the heav'ns, thy fabric, see. 
The moon and stars, disposed by thee; 
O! what is man, or his frail race. 
That thou should'st such a shadow grace? 



( 101 ) 

Next to thy angels most renownM, 

With majesty and glory crovvn'd! 

All that on dales and mountains feed, 

All that the woods and deserts breed, 

Whatever through airy regions flees, 

Or swims in deep and stormy seas, 

Thou all beneath his feet hast laid, 

King of thy whole creation made; 

Lord! how illustrious is thy name. 

Whose pow'r both heav'n and earth proclaim! 



ON RETIREMENT. 

While here sequester'd from the bus}- throng. 

Let calm reflection animate my song; 

May sweet retirement, with its soothing 

pow'rs 
Compose each thought, and gild the passing 

hours; 
And meek-eyed peace, in whitest robes be 

seen, 
To cheer the heart and make the mind serene; 
Then while the world in busy scenes engage, 
I'll shun the follies of a vicious age; 
Freed from the dull impertinence of strife, 
Serenely pass in solitude my life: 
And when Aurora ushers in the dawn; 
And tuneful songsters hail the rising morn, 
With grateful heart perform the ardent pray V, 
And thank kind Heav'n for its protecting 

care. 

9^^ . 



( 102 ) 

Then while the sun in radiant splendour 

reigns, 
And with its lustre decks the hills and plains, 
Oft let me wander o'er the dewy vale, 
And breathe sweet fragrance from the passing 

gale; 
Or, led by fancy, frequent let me rove, 
To some th'ck forest or some shady grove, 
Where peaceful silence reigns throughout the 

scene, 
And painted daisies deck the lovely green; 
While gentle zephyrs, with their silken 

wings. 
Display their beauties o'er the crystal springs, 
Or on the margin of a purling stream, 
(Indulge my mind on friendship's pleasing 

theme) 
Whose gentle murmurs calm the troubled 

breast, 
And sooth each sorrow when the mind's dis- 
tress' d. 
Then when the sun, obedient to command, 
Shall take his flight, and visit foreign land; 
May pale-eyed Cynthia, empress of the 

night. 
With mildest lustre, shed her solemn light; 
While twinkling stars dispense a friendly ray. 
And gently guide the trav'ller on his way: 
At this lone hour, when solemn silence reigns. 
And mournful Philomel renews her strains, 
May no sad thought my peaceful mind molest, 



r 1-03 ) 

^ach murmur stifled, and each sigh suppress'd, 

Save when compassion at another^s wo 

Shall cause the tears of tenderness to flow; 

Freely Pll bear a sympathetic part, 

And share the sorrows of the drooping heart; 

With fervent pray'rs implore kind Heav'n to 
bless, 

And fondly strive to make their sorrows less. 
Thus may my time in rural shades be spent, 

Far from the world, enrich'd with calm con- 
tent, 

'Till death's cold hand shall close these languid 
eyes. 

And hope conduct me to yon blissful skies. 



Ji cotitemplation of the works of nature should 
lead us to love and adore their Author, 

The following lines are taken from a description of Hawk- 
stone, an elegant seat in Shropshire. The author of that 
description tells us, they were composed by the owner 
of the above-mentioned seat, when he was contemplating 
the astonishing scenes around him in his own park, 
where the verses are to be seen in a natural cavern of a 
vast rock, from the top of which you command a very 
diversified and romantic prospect. 

Whilst all thy glories, my God! 

Thro' the creation shine, 
Whilst rocks and hills, and fertile vales, 

Proclaim the hand divine— 



( 104 ) 

0! may I view with humble heart, 
The wonders of thy pow'r, 

Displayed alike in wilder scenes, 
As in each blade and flower. 

But whilst I taste thy blessings, Lord! 

And sip the streams below, 
may my soul be led to thee, 

From whom all blessings flow. 

And if such footsteps of thy love, 
Thro' this lost world we trace, 

How far transcendent are thy works 
Throughout the world of grace! 

Just as before yon noon-tide sun. 
The brightest stars are small; 

So earthly comforts are but snares, 
'Till grace has crowned them all. 



A THOUGHT, ON FIRST WAKING. 

To God, who guards me all the night. 

Be honour, love, and praise; 
To God, who sheds the morning liglit. 

And gives me length of days. 

His pow'r first call'd us forth from naught, 

Inspired the vital flame, 
And with amazing wisdom wrought. 

The whole material frame. 



( 105 ) 

He gave the soul its heav'nly birth. 

He by his word divine 
PreparM the fit enclosing earth, 

And bade them both combine. 

Strange; that a pure, immortal mind, 

A bright celestial ray, 
Should be with frailest nature join'd, 

And mixed with common clay. 

O! wondrous union, so composed, 
That none can understand, 

'Tis such as evidently shows 
Th' Almighty Maker's hand. 



REFLECTIONS ON THE CLOSE OF THE 
YEAR. 

The year expires, and this its latest hour — 
Ah! think, my soul, how^wift the moment 
flies, 

Nor idly waste it wliile it's in thy pow'r; 
Attend time's awful call, and be thou wise. 

Twelve months ago, what numbers, blithe and 

gay. 

Thoughtful plan'd sc'hemes for the succeed- 
ing year; 
How vain were all their hopes, to death a prey, 
Nor wealth they ask, nor poverty they fear. 



( 106 ) 

I've foUowM worth and merit to the grave, 
The last sad duties to their ashes paid; 

How soon may I the same kind office crave, 
The pitying tear, sad sigh, and friendly aid? 

Almighty Lord! be pleased to extend 

Thy wonted kindness; still thy blessings 
pour — 

Oh! may thy grace into my breast descend, 
Teach me to work thy will, and thee adore. 



HYMN, OCCASIONED BY A RECOVERY FROM 
A TEDIOUS ILLNESS. 

Father Divine, Eternal One! 

While heav'n pure homage pays, 
From this dark point beneath the sun, 

Accept a mortal's praise. 

Yet what's the praise my breath can givej 

What's all that I can say. 
But that the God in whom I live 

Has given me health to-day ? 

The theme my voice in vain assays, 

Then let my life pursue; 
Let what I am record thy praise, 

Express'd in what I do. 

Thee more than all — and as myself, 
Oh, teach me man to love: 



( 107 ) 

Be this my fame, my glory, wealth, 
My bliss below — above! 

Nor let my love to man be vain, 

My love to God be blind; 
Of thee some knowledge let me gain, 

Some blessing give mankind. 

Thro' ev'ry change my life may know, 

My ebbing, flowing tides, 
Firm by my faith, that all below, 

Love, joinM with wisdom, guides. 

That e'en thy justice tends to bless, 

Tho' little understood; 
That partial evils love express, 

And work the gen'ral good. 

But frail, alas! this mortal clay. 
This reasoning mind how frail! 

Let strength be equal to my day. 
Nor height nor depth prevail. 

When o'er my roof affliction low'rs 

Sustain my sinking heart; 
In all my gay, unguarded hours, 

Oh, keep my better part! 

And when this tott'ring fabric falls, 

Assist my soul to soar. 
Where full possession never palls, 

To know and love thee more. 



( lOB ) 



ON THE SHORTNESS OF LIFE. 

The pleasing gales that gentle summer yields^ 
Amid the gay profusion of his store; 

The smiles of nature and of verdant fields, 
Are all, alas! but blessings of an hour. 

How vast the beauties they around display^ 
Till dreary winter reassume his reign, 

And sternly bid them vanish and decay, 
And leave no traces on the pensive plain. 

The golden cowslip on th' enamelPd mead, 
Displays his youthful glories to the view. 

But soon he droops his solitary head, 

And yields his virtue to the evening's dew. 

Alas! how transient is the dream of life, 
And every heart- felt comfort we enjoy 

And fraught with care, solicitude, and strife. 
Each hour attempts our blessings to destroy. 

All human scenes are subject to decay, 
And time asserts an all-prevailing pow'r; 

Expanding beauties to the morning's ray. 
We bloom to wither, as the tender flow'r. 

Not so the soul — its views sublime and pure, 
Where faith, and hope and charity unite, 

Shall rise and dwell eternally secure. 

In heaven's unfading mansions of delight. 



( 109 ) 



A DREAM. 

TorturM with pain, as late I sleepless lay, 
Oppress'd with care, impatient for the day, 
Just at the dawn a gentle slumber came, 
And to my wand'ring fancy brought this 
dream. 
Methought my pains were hush'd, and I 
was laid 
In earth's cold lap, among the silent dead; 
Propped on my arm, I viewed, with vast^ 
surprise, | 

This last retreat of all the great and wise; y 
Where fool, and knave, in friendly consort j 
lies. J 

Whilst thus I gaz'd, behold a wretch appeared. 
In beggar's garb, with loathsome filth be- 

smear'd, 
His carcass, Lazar like, was crusted o'er 
With odious leprosy, one horrid sore; 
This wretch approach'd, and laid him by my 

side. 
Good heaven! — how great a shock to mortal 

pride; 
Enrag'd I cried — '' Friend, keep the distance 

duQ 
To us of rank, from beggars such as you; 
Observe some manners, and do me the grace, 
To move far off, and quit your betters' place." 

10 



( 110 ) 

*< And what art thou?" audacious (he re- 
plied!) 
<< That thus dost show such relics of thy prided | 
What though in life the harder lot was mine, 
Of ease and plenty every blessing thine, 
Yet here, distinctions cease; a beggar's dust 
Shall rise with kings — more happy if more 

just; 
Till then we both one common mass shall join^ 5J 
And spite of scorn, my ashes mix with thine." 



The love of Christ iveans us from the love 
of the tvorld. 

Let worldly minds the world pursue, 

It has no charms for me; 
Once 1 admired its trifles too, 

But grace has set me free. 

Its pleasures now no longer please, 

No more content afford. 
Far from my heart be joys like these,. 

Now I have known the Lord. 

As hy the light of opening day, 

The stars are all conceal'd;. 
So earthly pleasures fade away. 

When Jesus is reveal'd. 

Now, Lord! I would be thine alone, 
And wholly live to thee; 



( 111 ) 

But may I hope that thou wilt own 
A worthless worm like me? 

Yes — ^though of sinners Pm the worst, 

I cannot doubt thy will; 
For if thou had not loved me first, 

1 had refused thee still. 



THE DIVINE PRESENCE. 

The high and mighty King of kings, 
Whose praise the whole creation sings, 
Hath fixed, in love to human kind, 
His blessed image in our mind. — 
The lines are strong, the picture fair, 
No need of anxious search and care; 
Look but within, and straight appears, 
The signature all nature wears! 

Where'er I am, howe'er opprest, 
This heav'nly portrait in my breast 
Inspires with confidence divine, 
And comfort flows from ev'ry line! 
Through dangers numberless I go, 
Yet weather all the storms that blow, 
To lead me to the peaceful shore, 
My God and guide is still before! 

At night, before I close my eyes, 
And in the morning, when I lise, 
I pray for safety, health, and grace, 
And sliii the Lord before me place! 



( 112 ) 

He sheds his odours round my head, 
And makes me sleep secure in bed; 
In all the labours of the day 
He goes before and points the way! 

Soon as my passions wild prevail, 
And faith and reason both assail; 
When strong temptations spread their net. 
Before me still the Lord I set; 
His presence can the passions lay, 
And teach them reason to obey; 
Temptation's charms soon disappear, 
And truth succeeds when God is near. 

When sorrows upon sorrows roll, 
And sharpest arrows pierce my soul; 
When deepest sunk in black despair, 
I lift my eyes and heart in pray'r; 
Just when all human help had faiPd, 
And friend and neighbour naught avaiPd, 
This best of friends, in constant view. 
Shows what himself alone can do. 

Through all the future ills of life, 
Amidst contempt, reproach, and strife, 
I'll set the Lord before me still, 
And live obedient to his will. 
So when through death's dark vale I move, 
He will a light before me prove; 
Conduct me safe to endless joy, 
And mark me out some blest employ. 



( 113 ) 

AN EVENING THOUGHT. 

Now down the steep of heav'n, the source of 

rlay 
Ptirsues, nnwearicfl, his diurnal way; 
Mild shine iiis rays, his heaiiis serene descend, 
And o'er the earth a sweet effulgence send. 
The blust'ring winds a pleasing silence keep, 
And in their caves, with folded pinions, sleep. 
No longer from the clouds descends the rain, 
But a clear azure spreads th' etherial plain; 
A solemn, pleasing silence, liovers round, 
And peace, with downy wing, o'erspreads the 

ground. 
While silver Cynthia sheds her milder light, 
And ushers in the awful reign of night. 
So when the lamp of life shall dimly burn, 
And this frail frame to kindred dust return, 
May the rude strife of earth-born passions cease, 
And life's short journey terminate in peace. 
May ihen no cares terrestrial break my rest, 
Or keen reflections discompose my breast. 
May then no fears, no dread of ills to come, 
Make me shrink back with terror from the 

tomb; 
But when the awful mandate from on high 
The sentence shall proclaim, that bids me die, 
Resign'd and peaceful let me bow my head. 
And heav'n enjoy, when number'd with the 

dead. 

10^ 



( 114 ) 



Love to God gives peace of mind. 

Love the great God with all thy might, 
And know, whatever is, is right. 
To his disposal always yield. 
Who clothes the lilies of the field. 
And trust his ever watchful care, 
Which numbers ev'ry single hair. 
Each day the sacred pages view, 
For these give pleasures ever new. 

The truths that there conspicuous shine, 
Proclaim their author all divine — 
See here thy great Redeemer's love, 
Who left the radiant realms above, 
To perfect all the gospel plan, 
Then died, to save degen'rate man. 
To him prefer thy ardent pray'r, 
For such things as expedient are. 

And if thy breast a mansion be, 
Fit to receive the Heav'nly Three, 
The Comforter shall soon be sent, 
To fill the mind with sweet content; 
And though the world, as all confess, 
Can neither satisfy nor bless, 
Hence mayst thou draw that liquid store, 
Which he who drinks of thirsts no more. 



C 115 ) 



HUMANITY. 

Ah me! how little knows the human heart, 
The pleasing task of softening other's wo; 
Strangers to joys, that pity can impart. 

And tears sweet sympathy can teach to flow. 
If e'er Pve mourn'd my humble, lowly state; 
If e'er I've bow'd my knee at fortune's 
shrine; 
If e'er a wish escap'd me, to be great, 

The fervent pray'r, humanity, was thine, 
Pity the man, who hears the moving tale 
Unmov'd, to whom the heart-felt glows 
unknown; 
On whom the widow's plaints could ne'er 
prevail. 
Nor made the injur'd wretch's cause his 
own. 
How little knows he th' extatic joy, 

The thrilling bliss of cheering wan despair; 
How little knows the pleasing, warm employ, 

That calls the grateful tribute of a tear. 
The splendid dome, the vaulted roof to rear, 
The glare of pride and pomp, be grandeur 
thine; 
To wipe from mis'ry's eye the wailing tear. 
And sooth th' oppressed orphan's woes, be 
mine. 



( 116 ) 

Be mine the blush of modest worth to spare, 

To change to smiles affliction's rising sigh; 
The kindred warmth of charity to share, 

Till joy shall sparkle from the tear lillM eye. 
Can the loud lauy;h, the mirth in*'pirin^ howl, 

The dance, or choral sujig, or ju.-iisnl glet-, 
Affect the glowing, sympathizing soul, 

Or warm the breast, humanity, like thee? 



From the Book of Wisdom: — ** Hearken 
unto thy father — despise not thy mother 
when she is old.^' Extract. 

'Tis wisdom speaks — her voice divine 
Attend, my son, and life is thine. 
Thine, taught to shun the devious way, 
Where folly leads the blind astray: 
Let virtue's lamp thy footsteps guide, 
And shun the dangerous heights of pride; 
The peaceful vale, the golden mean. 
The path of life pursue serene. 
From infancy what suff'rings spring — ■ 
While yet a naked, helpless thing. 
Who o'er thy limbs a cov'ring cast, 
To shield thee from the inclement blast? 
Thy mother — honour her — her arms 
Secur'd thee from a thousand harms; 
When helpless, hanging on her breast, 
She sooth'd thy sobbing heart to rest; 



( 117 ) 

For thee her peace, her health destroyed. 
For thee, her ev'ry pow'r employ 'd; 
Thoughtful of thee, before the day 
Shot through the dark its rising ray; 
Thoughtful of thee, when sable night 
Again had quench'd the beams of light; 
To Heav'n, in ceaseless pray V for thee, 
She rais'd her head, and bent her knee. 
Despise her not, now feeble grown — 
Oh ! make her wants and woes thy own; 
Let not thy lips rebel; nor eyes, 
Her weakness, frailty, years, despise; 
From youthful insolence defend. 
Be patron, husband, guardian, friend. 
Thus shalt thou sooth, in life's decline, 
The mis'ries that may once be thine. 



The latter Part of the third chapter of Hah- 
hakkuk imitated. 

Although the blooming plants forget to shoot, 
The fig-tree fade, and vines deny their fruit; 
No tasteful olives finish our repast. 
Nor op'ning buds survive the wintry blast; 
The barren fields their wonted blades withhold, 
And lambs no longer fill the scanty fold ; 
Nor flocks, nor herds, around the vale be seen, 
3ut one stern famine sweep th' impov'rishM 
green — 



( 118 ) 

Yet shall the God of nature claim my praise, 
Wake my first songs, and share my latest lays. 
Each night and morn shall siring the duteous 

lyre, 
And all my nerves retouch with sacred fire; 
Hills, vales, and groves, the sounding anthem 

own, 
And the sweet echoes reach th' unshaken 

throne, 
Where reigns for ever, in unclouded day, 
My guide, that leads at once and lights my 

way. 
He from my path will turn the opposing wind, 
And give my feet the swiftness of the hind ; 
Life's rugged tracts make like the pleasant 

plains, 
On whose smooth ground the trav'Uer sooths 

his pains. 



THOUGHTS ON THE GRAVE OF A CHILD.— 
BY A FATHER. 

Here, here she lies! ohl could I once more 

view 
Those dear remains; take one more fond 

adieu; 
Weep o'er that face of innocence, or save 
One darling feature, from the noisome grave! 
Vain wish! — now low in= earth that form of 

love 
Decays, unseen, yet not forgot above. 



( 119 ) . 

In angel light array'd, beyond the star&, 
Some more exalted form her spirit wears. 
The work of God, that beauteous clay, whicb 

here 
In infant charms so lovely could appear; 
As though in nature's nicest model cast, 
Exactly polish'd, wrought too fine to last — 
By the same powerful hand again shall rise, 
To bloom more gay, more lovely in the skies. 
No sickness there can the pure frame annoy, 
Nor death presume God^s image to destroy. 
Those seats of pleasure, not a tear sliall stain, 
In them not e'en a wish shall glow in vain. 

That active mind, intent on trifles here, 
Enlarges now to objects worth its care; 
Looks down with scorn upon the toys below, 
And burns, with transport, better worlds ta 

know, 
Where scenes of glory open to her sight, 
And new improvements furnish new delight; 
Where friendly angels, for her guidance giv'n, 
Lead her, admiring, thro' the courts of heav'n. 

No wonder then her course so swiftly run,- 
Like the young eaglet tow'ring to the sun; 
Wing'd for eternal bliss, and plum'd for day, 
Her soul, enraptur'd made such haste away, 
Impatient to regain its native shore, 
Just smil'd at folly, and, look'd back no more. 

That winning nature, and obliging mien, 
Pleas'd to see all, by all with pleasure seen. 
Smiling and sweet as vernal flovv'rs new blown^ 
Associates now with tempers Uke her own. 



( 12^ ) 

Her love to me (how artless and sincere I) 
Rises from earth to heav'n, and centres there. 
So pure a flame, heav'n's gracious Sire will 

own, 
And with paternal love indulgent crown. 

Cease, then, frail nature, to lament in vain, 
Reason forbids to wish her back again; 
Rather congratulate her happier fate, 
And new advancement to a better state; 
This blessing quick recalPd, can Heav'n be- 
stow, 
No more in pity to a father's wo? 
Know the same God, who gave, hath tak'n 

away, 
He orders her to go, and thee to stay, 
Though in this vale of misery, alone, 
Deserted, weary, thou should'st travel on. 
Still be resign'd, my soul! his will be done. 
Escap'd from life, and all its train of ills, 
Which, ah! too sure, the hoary pilgrim feels, 
To shorter trial doom'd, and lighter toil, 
Ere sin could tempt her, or the world defile. 
She, favour'd innocent, retires to rest. 
Tastes but the cup of sorrow, and is blest. 

Such the mild Saviour to his arms receives, 
And the full blessings of his kingdom gives. 
There angels wait, submissive, round his 

throne. 
To praise his goodness in these infants shown. 
Amid that gentle throng, how heav'nly 

bright. 
Distinguish'd Lucy shines, fair star of light. 



\ 



( 121 ) 

Short, yet how pleasing, was her visit here, 
She's now remov'd to grace a nobler sphere; 
There, while thy much lov'd parents mourn 

below. 
Thou, happy child, shall not our sorrows know, 
Eternal joys be thine, full anthems raise. 
And glad all heav'n with thy Creator's praise. 



THE UNKNOWN WORLD— ON HEARING A 
PASSING BELL. 

Hark, my gay friend, that solemn toll 
Speaks the departure of a soul. 
^Tis gone that's all we know, not where^ 
Or how th' unbody'd soul does fare. 

In that mysterious world none knowSj 
But God alone to wliom it o-oes: 
To whom departed souls return 
To take their doom, to smile or mourni 
Oh! by what glimm'ring light we view, 
The unknown world we are hastening to^ 
Swift flies the soul — perhaps 'tis gone 
A thousand leagues beyond the sun; 
Or twice ten thousand more thrice told, 
Ere the forsaken clay is cold. 
And yet who knows, if friends we lov'd^ 
Though dead, may be so far remov'd, 
Only this vail of flesh between. 
Perhaps they w^atch us, though unseen. 

11 



( 1^^ ) 

Whilst we their loss lamenting say, 
They're out of hearing far away, 
Guardians to us, perhaps they're near^ 
Conceal'd in vehicles of air. 
And yet no notices they give. 
Nor tell us how or where they live. 
Though conscious, while with us beloWy 
How much themselves desir'd to knoW;, 
As if bound up by solemn fate. 
To keep this secret of their state; 
To tell their joys or pains to none, 
That man might live by faith alone. 
Well, let my Sov'reign, if he please^ 
Lock up his marvellous decrees; 
Why siiould I wish him to reveal 
What he thinks proper to conceal? 
It is enough that I believe 
Heav'n's brighter than I can conceive; 
And he that makes it all his care 
To serve God here, shall see him there. 
But oh! what worlds shall I survey, 
The moment that I leave this clay; 
How sudden the surprise — how new — 
Let it, my God ! be happy too i 



THE WIFE'S CONSOLATION TO HER HUS- 
BAND UNDER AFFLICTION. 

No more, lov'd partner of my soul; 
At disapppintment grieve; 



1 



( 123 ) 

Can flowing tears our fate control, 
Or sighs our woes relieve ? 

Adversity is virtue's school, 

To those who right discern; 
Let us observe each painful rule, 

And each hard lesson learn. 

When wintry clouds obscure the sky, 

And heav'n and earth deform, 
If fix'd the strong foundations lie, 

The castle braves the storm. 

Thus, fix'd on faith's unfailing rock, 

Let us endure awhile, 
Misfortune's rude impetuous shock. 

And glory in our toil. 

Ill fortune cannot always last; 

Or, though it should remain, 
Yet we each painful moment haste, 

A better world to gain — ^ 

Where calumny no more shall wound. 

Nor faithless friends destroy; 
Where innocence and truth are crown'd 

With never-fading joy. 

HOLY-DAYS. 

Some Christians to the Lord observe a day, 
While others to the Lord observe it not; 

And, tho' these seem to choose a diff'rent way, 
Yet both at last to the same point are brought. 



( 124 ) 

Who for th' observance pleads may reason thus: 
** As on this day our Saviour and our King 

Perform'd some glorious act of love for us, 
We keep the time in mem'ry of the thing." 

Hence he to Jesus points his good intent, 
With pray'rs and praises celebrates his name; 

And as to Christ alone his love is meant, 
The Lord accepts it; and who dares to blame? 

For though the shell indeed is not the meat, 
'Tis not rejected when the meat's within; 

Though superstition is a vain conceit, 
Commemoration surely is no sin. 

He, likewise,, that to days has no regard. 
The shadow only for the substance quits; 

Towards his Saviour's presence presses hard, 
And, that preferring, outward things omits;. 

For thus within he seriously reflects: 

"My Lord alone I count my only good; 

All empty forms for him my soul rejects. 
And only seek the riches of his blood. 

AH days, in Jesus is my sole delight. 

The first and worthiest object of my care; 

For whose dear sake all outward shows I slight, 
Lest aught but him should my devotiou 
share." 

Let not the observer therefore entertain 
Against his brother any secret grudge; 



( 125 ) 

And let the non-observer, too, refrain 

From censuring others, whom he should not 
judge. 

Thus, both, their motives bringing to the test, 
Our condescending Lord may both approve, 

While each pursues the way he deems the best. 
For none can walk amiss who walk in love. 



A CONTEMPLATION ON NIGHT. 

Whether amid the gloom of night I stray, 
Or my glad eyes enjoy revolving day. 
Still nature's various face informs my sense, 
Of an all-wise, all-powerful Providence. 

When the gay sun first breaks the shades of 
night, 
And strikes the distant hills with eastern light. 
Colour returns, the plains their livVy w^ear. 
And a bright verdure clothes the smiling year; 
The blooming flow'rs with op'ning beauties 

glow, 
And grazing flocks their milky fleeces show. 
The barren cliffs, with chalky fronts, arise, 
And a pure azure arches o'er the skies. 
But when the gloomy reign of night returns, 
Stript of her fading pride, all nature mourns; 
The trees no more their wonted verdure boast. 
But weep, in dewy tears, their beauty lost. 
No distant landscapes drav/ our curious eyes, 
VVropt in night's robe the whole creation lies. 
11* 



( 126 ) 

Yet still, ev'n now, while darkness clothes the 

land, 
We view the traces of the Almighty hand; 
Millions of stars in heav'ns wide vault appear, 
And with new glories hang the boundless- 
sphere. 
The silver moon her western couch forsakes, 
And o'er the skies her nightly circle makes; 
Her solid globe beats back the sunny rays, 
And to the world her borrowed light repays. 
Whether those stars that twinkling lustre 
send, 
Are suns, and rolling worlds those suns attend, 
Man may conjecture, and new schemes declare, 
Yet all his systems but conjectures are. 
But this we know, that heav'n's eternal King, 
Who bid this universe from nothing spring. 
Can at his word bid num'rous worlds appear, 
And rising worlds th' all-pow'rful word shall 
hear. 
When to the western main the sun descends. 
To other lands a rising day he lends; 
The spreading dawn another shepherd spies. 
The wakeful flocks from their warm folds arise. 
Refreshed, the peasant seeks his early toil, 
And bids the plough correct the fallow soil; " 
While we, in sleep's embraces, waste the night, 
The climes oppos'd enjoy meridian light. 
And when those lands the busy sun forsakes, 
With us, again, the rosy morning wakes; 
In lazy sleep the night rolls swift away. 
And neither clime laments his absent ray. 



( 127 ) 

When the pure soul is from the body flown, 
No more shall night's alternate reign be known; 
The sun no more shall rolling light bestow, 
But from th' Almighty streams of glory flow. 
Oh ! may some nobler thought my soul employ, 
Than empty, transient, sublunary joy! 
The stars shall drop, the sun shall lose his 

flame, 
But thou, God ! for ever shine the same. 

THE KNOWLEDGE OF GOD NATURAL TO 

MAN. 

That gracious Pow'r, who, from his kindred 
clay, 
Bids man arise to tread the realms of day, 
Implants a guide, that tells what will fulfil 
His word, or wha,t's repugnant to his will; 
The Author of our being marks so clear. 
That none, but those who will be blind/can err; 
Or wheresoever we turn the attentive eyes. 
Proofs of a God on ev'ry side arise; 
Nature, a faithful mirror, stands to show 
God, in his works, disclos'd to human view; 
Whate'er exists beneath the crystal floods. 
Or cuts the liquid air, or haunts the woods; 
The various flow'rs, that spread the enamePd 

mead, 
Each plant, each herb, or ev^n the grass we 

tread, 
Displays Omnipotence: None else could form 
The vilest weed, or animate a worm. 
Or view the livid wonders of the sky, 



( 128 ) 

What hand suspends those ponderous orbs on 

high? 
The comet's flight, the planet's mystic dance! 
Are these the works of Providence or chance? 
Themselves declare that universal Cause j 

Who fram'd the system, and impos'd their f 

laws. 



PRIDE AND HUMILITY. 

Mark how the stately tree disdainful rears 
His tow'ring head, and mingles with the clouds! 
But by his fatal height the more exposed 
To all the fury of the raging storm; 
His honours fly, the sport of angry winds, 
'Till the loud blast, with direful stroke, de- 
scends: 
Torn from his basis, low on earth he lies, 
And the hills echo to the sounding fall. 
So pride with haughty port, defies in vain 
The force of rough adversity, which rends 
With double violence, the stubborn heart. 

But like a tender plant, humility 
Bends low before the threat'ning blast, unhurt 
Eludes its rage, and lives through all the storm. 

Pride is the liv'ry of the prince of darkness, 
Worn by his slaves, who glory in their shame; 
-A gaudy dress, but tarnish'd, rent, and foul, 
And loathsome to the holy eye of Heav'n. 



( 129 ) 

But sweet humility, a shining robe, 
Bestow'd by Heav'n upon its fav'rite sons; 
The robe which God approves, and angels 

wear; 
Fair semblance of the glorious prince of light. 
Who stoop'd to dwell (divine humility!) 
With sinful worms, and poverty, and scorn. 
Pride is the source of discord, strife, and war, 
And all the endless train of heavy woes 
Which wait on wretched man! the direful sting 
Of envy, and the dreaded frowns of scorn, 
And gloomy discontent, and black despair. 

But sweet humility, the source of peace, 
Of amity and love, content and joy; 
Where she resides, a thousand blessings wait, 
To gild our lives and form a heaven below. 

Pride leads her wretched vot'ries to con- 
tempt. 
To certain ruin, infamy, and death. 

But sweet humility points out the way 
To happiness, and life, and lasting honours. 

Humility, how glorious! how divine! 
Thus cloth'd, and thus enrich'd, may I 

shine! 
Be mine, this treasure, this celestial robe. 
And let the sons of pride possess the globe. 



(' 130 ) 



RESIGNATION. 

Thou Pow'r Supreme, by whose command I 
live, 
The grateful tribute of my praise receive; 
To thy indulgence, I my being owe, 
And all the joys which from that being flow. 
Scarce eighteen suns have form'd the rolling 

year. 
And run their destin'd courses round the 

sphere, 
Since thou my undistinguish'd form surveyed, 
Among the lifeless heaps of matter laid; 
Thy skill my elemental clay refined, 
The straggling parts in beauteous order join'd; 
With perfect symmetry compos'd the whole, 
And stamp'd thy sacred image on my soul; 
A soul, susceptible of endless joy! 
Whose frame, nor force, nor time, can e'er de- 
stroy. 
But shall subsist, when nature claims my 

breath, 
And bid defiance to the power of death; 
.To realms of bliss with active freedom soar, 
And live when earth and hell shall be no more. 
Indulgent God, in vain my tongue assays, 
For this immortal gift, to speak thy praise. 
How shall my heart its grateful sense reveal, 
When all the energy of words must fail? 
Oh ! may its influence on my life appear, 
And every action, prove my thanks sincere. 



( 131 ) 

Grant me, great God ! a heart to thee inclin'd^ 
Increase my faith, and rectify my mind; 
Teach me betimes to tread thy sacred vvays, 
And to thy service consecrate my days; 
Still as thro' life's uncertain maze I stray, 
Be thou the guiding-star to mark my way; 
Conduct the steps of my unguarded youth, 
And point their motions to the paths of truthj 
Protect me by thy providential care. 
And teach my soul t' avoid the tempter's snarej 
Through all the various scenes of human life. 
In calms of ease, or blustering storms of strife, 
Through every turn of this inconstant state, 
Preserve my temper, equal and sedate; 
Give me a mind that bravely does despise 
The low designs of artifice and lies; 
Be my religion such as taught by thee. 
Alike from pride and superstition free; 
Inform my judgment, rectify my will. 
Confirm my reason, and my passions stilL 
To gain thy favour be my only end, 
And to that scope my every action tend; 
Amidst the pleasures of a prosp'rous state, 
Whose flatt'ring charms the mind too oft elate, 
Still may I think to whom those joys I owe. 
And bless the bounteous hand from whence 

they flow; 
Or, if an adverse fortune be my share, 
Let not its terrors tempt me to despair, 
But bravely arm'd, a steady faith maintain. 
And own all best which thy decrees ordain ; 



( 132 ) 

On thy Almighty Providence depend, 
The best protector and the surest friend: 
Thus, on life's stage may I my part maintain^ 
And at my exit thy applauses gain ; 
When thy pale herald summons me away, 
Support me in that great catastrophe ; 
In that last conflict guard me from alarms, 
And take my soul, expiring, to thy arms. 

MIDDLE STATE. 

The middle state of life is best, 
Exalted stations find no rest; 
Storms shake th' aspiring pine and tow'r^ 
And mountains feel the thunder's pow'r. 
The mind, prepared for each event, 
In ev'ry state maintains content; 
She hopes the best when storms prevail^ 
Nor trusts too far the prosp'rous gale; 
Should time returning winters bring. 
Returning winter yields to spring; 
Should darkness shroud the present skies^ 
Hereafter brighter suns shall rise. 

SOLITUDE. 

In solitude I'll spend the day; 
The sultry hours I'll pass away, 

In calm retirement's seat; 
Enraptur'd snatch her peaceful joys, 
^^Vhiie others court ambition's toys, 
And study to be great. 



( 133 ) 



AN EVENING REFLECTION. 

While night in solemn shade invests the pole^ 
And calm reflection sooths the pensive soul; 
While reason undisturbed, asserts her sway, 
And life's deceitful colours fade away, 
To thee, all-conscious presence! I devote 
This peaceful interval of sober thought. 
Here all my better faculties confine. 
And be this hour of sacred silence thine. 
If by the day's illusive scenes misled, 
My erring soul from virtue's path has stray'd, 
Snar'd by example or by passion warm'd, 
Some false delight my giddy sense has charm'd ; 
My calmer thoughts the wretched choice re- 
prove. 
And my best hopes are centred in thy love- 
Depriv'd of this, can life one joy afford? 
Its utmost boast, a vain, unmeaning word. 

But, ah! how oft my lawless passions rove, 
And break those awful precepts I approve ! 
Pursue the fatal impulse I abhor^ 
And violate the virtue I adore. 
Oft when thy better Spirit's guardian care, 
Warn'd my fond soul to shun the tempting 

snare, 
My stubborn will his gentle aid represt, 
And check'd the rising goodness in my Ureast ;. 
Mad with vain hopes, or urg'd by false de- 
sires, 

1^ 



( 134 ) 

Still'd his soft voice and quench'd his sacred 

fires, 
With grief oppress'd, and prostrate in the dust, 
Should'st thou condemn, I own the sentence 

just. 
But, oh! thy softer titles let me claim. 
And plead my cause by mercy's gentle name — 
Mercy, that wipes the penitential tear, 
And dissipates the horror of despair ; 
From rig'rous justice steals the vengeful hour. 
Softens the dreadful attribute of pow'r, 
Disarms the wrath of an offended God, 
And seals my pardon in a Saviour's blood. 
All-pow'rful grace, exert thy gentle sway, 
And teach my rebel passions to obey, 
Lest lurking folly, with insidious art. 
Regain my volatile, inconstant heart; 
Shall ev'ry high resolve, devotion frames, 
Be only lifeless sounds and specious names? 
Oh I rather while thy hopes and fears control, 
In this still hour, each motion of my soul, 
Secure its safety by a sudden doom. 
And be the soft retreat of sleep my tomb ; 
Calm let me slumber in that dark repose, 
'Till the last morn its orient beam disclose j 
Then when the great archangel's potent sound 
Shall echo through creation's ample round, 
Wak'd from the sleep of death, with joy sur- 
vey 
The op'ning splendours of eternal day. 



( 135 ) 

SEARCHING AFTER HAPPINESa 

Dh! happiness, thou pleasing dream, 
Where is thy substance found? 

Sought through the varying scenes in vain. 
Of earth's capacious round. 

The charnns of grandeur, pomp, and show, 
Are naught but gilded snares; 

Ambition's painful steep ascent, 
Thick set with thorny cares. 

The busy town, the crowded street, 
Where noise and discord reign, 

We gladly leave, and tir'd retreat, 
To breathe and think again. 

Yet, if retirement's pleasing charms 

Detain the captive mind. 
The soft enchantment soon dissolves, 

'Tis empty all as wind. 

Religion's sacred lamp alone, 

Unerring points the way. 
Where happiness for ever shines, 

With unpolluted ray. 

To regions of eternal peace, 

Beyond the starry skies, 
Where pure, sublime, and perfect joys. 

In endless prospect rise. 



( 136 ) 

LIFE IS SHORT. 

Man's life, like any weaver's shuttle flies, 
'Or like a tender flowret, fades and diesj 
Or like a race, it ends without delay, 
Or like a vapour, vanishes away ; 
Or like a candle, which each moment wastes, 
Or like a vessel, under sail it hastes ; 
Or like a post, it gallops very fast. 
Or like the shadow of a cloud, 'tis pa^t. 
Our castle is but weak, and strong the foe, 
Our breath is short, our death is certain too: 
But as his coming is a secret still, 
Let us be ready, come death when he will. 



■Concluding Stanzas of a Piece written on Recovery 
from Sickness. 

Father of life! whose arm with equal power, 
And equal goodness, can depress or raise; 
Complete the blessings thou hast deign'd to 
show'r, 
And grant increasing worth to length of 
days. 
Oh! grant me still to trust thy tender care, 

In humble praise to use this added breath, 
In health, the innocence of sickness wear. 
And keep, through life, the sober thoughts of 
death. 



( 137 ) 

'The Blind and Weak led and supported^ 
Isa. xlii. 16. 

Praise to the radiant source of bliss, 
Who gives the blind their sight, 

And scatters round their wond'ring eye&, 
A flood of sacred light. 

In paths unknown he leads them on, 

To his divine abode, 
And shows new miracles of grace, 

Through all our heav'nly road. 

The ways all rugged and perplex'd, 
He renders smooth and straight, 

And strengthens ev'ry feeble knee, 
To march to Zion's gate. 

Through all the path I'll sing his name, 

Till I the mount ascend, 
Where toils and storms are known no more^ 

And anthems never end. 

SONGS OF PRAISE. 

Songs of praise the angels sang, 
Heaven with hallelujahs rang; 
When Jehovah's work begun, 
When he spake and it was done. 
Songs of praise awoke the morn, 
When the Prince of peace was bornj 
Songs of praise arose, when he, 
Captive led captivity. 

12* 



( i38 ) 

Heaven and earth must pass away, 
Songs of praise shall crown that day: 
God will make new heavens and earth, 
Songs of praise shall hail their birth. 
And shall man alone be dumb, 
Till that glorious kingdom come; 
No: — the church delights to raise 
Psalms and hymns, and songs of praise. 
Saints below, with heart and voice, 
Still in songs of praise rejoice; 
Learning here by faith and love, 
Songs of praise to sing above. 
Borne upon their latest breath. 
Songs of praise shall conquer death; 
Then amidst eternal joy. 
Songs of praise their powers employ. 



HYMN., 

There is a land of pure delight. 
Where saints immortal reign; 

Eternal day excludes the night, 
And pleasures banish pain. 

f. There everlasting spring abides. 
And never-fading flowers; 
Death like a narrow sea divides 
This heavenly land from ours. 

Bright fields beyond the swelling flood, 
Stand dress'd in lively green; 



vi> 



( 139 ) 

*So to the Jews' fair Canaan stood, 

While Jordan rolTd between. 
But tim'rous mortals start and shrink 

To cross the narrow sea; 
And linger, trembling on the brink, 

And fear to launch away. 

Oh! could we make our doubts remove, 

Those gloomy doubts that rise 
And see the Canaan that we love. 

With faith's illumin'd eyes! 

Could we but climb where Moses stood. 

And view'd the landscape o'er; 
Not Jordan's streams, nor death's cold flood, 

Should fright us from the shore. 



A THOUGHT ON WAKING, 

Sleep by night, and cares by day, 
Bear my fleeting life away: 
Lo! in yonder eastern skies, 
Sol appears, and bids me rise: 
Tells me, *' Life is on the wing, 
And has no returning spring; 
Death comes on with steady pace, 
And life's the only day of grace. '^ 
Shining preacher! happy morning! 
Let me take th' important warning; 
Rouse, then, all my active pow'rs, 
Well improve the coming hours; 



( 140 ) 

Let no trifles kill the day, 
(Trifles oft our hearts betray.) 
Virtue, science, knowledge, truthj 
Guide th' inquiries of my youth. 
Wisdom, and experience sage. 
Then shall sooth the cares of age^ 
Those with time shall never die, 
Those will lead to joys on high; 
Those the path of life display, 
Shining with celestial day; 
Blissful path! with safety trod, 
As it leads the soul to God. 



ON HAPPINESS: 

Long have I sought the wish of all. 

True happiness to find, 
Which some will wealth, some pleasure call>j 

And some a virtuous mind. 

Sufficient wealth, to keep away 

Of want the doleful scene. 
And joy enough to gild the day, 

And niake life's course serene. 

Virtue enough to ask my heart. 

Art thou secure within? 
Hast thou performed an honest part? 

Hast thou no private sin? 

This to perform, these things possess, 
Must raise a noble joy. 



( 141 ) 

Must constitute that happiness, 
Which nothing can destroy. 



PHARAOH'S DAUGHTER. 

Fast by the margin of her native flood, 

Whose fertile waters are well known to fame, 

Fair as the bord'ring flow'rs the princess stood, 
And rich in bounty as the gen'rous stream. 

When, lo! a tender cry afflicts her ear, 
The tender cry declares an infant's grief; 

Soon she, who melted at each mortal's care, 
With tend'rest pity sought the babe's re- 
lief. 

The babe, adorn'd in beauty's early bloom, 
But to the last distress expos'd, appears. 

His infant softness pleads a milder doom. 
And speaks with all the eloquence of tears. 

The kind Egyptian gaz'd upon his charms. 
And with compassion view'd the weeping 
child; 
She snatch'd the little Hebrew to her arms. 
And kiss'd the infant — the sweet infant 
smil'd. 

Again she clasp'd him with a fond embrace. 
Yet more she pities the young stranger's wo; 

.She wip'd the tears that hung upon his face, 
Her own the while in pious plenty flow. 



( 142 ) 

Now, cruel father, thy harsh law I see, 

And feel that rigour which the Hebrews 
mourn; 
0! that I could reverse the dire decree, 

Which dooms the babe a wretch as soon as 
born. 

But that, alas] exceeds my slender pow'r — 
And must this tender innocent be slain? 

Poor harmless babe! born in a luckless hour. 
Yet sweet as ever sooth'd a mother's pain. 

Must thou, poor undeserving infant, die? 

No! in my bosom every danger shun; 
A princess shall thy parents' loss supply, 

And thou art worthy to be calPd her son. 



A PRAYER. 

Father of light and life, thou good supreme! 
teach me what is good; teach me thyself! 
Save me from folly, vanity, and vice; 
From every low pursuit, and fill my soul 
With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue 

pure. 
Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss. 



( 143 ) 



DEATH. 



Death is the crown of life: 



Were death denied, poor man would live in 

vain: 
^Tis equally man's duty, glory, gain— - 
At once to shun and meditate his end. 
The thought of death will soften the descent, 
And gently slope our passage to the grave. 

• Sure the last end 

Of the good man is peace. How calm his exit! 
Night-dews fall not more gently to the ground, 
Nor weary, worn-out winds expire so soft. 
The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the 

grave, 
The deep damp vaults, the darkness, and the 

worm ; 
These ape the bugbears of a winter's eve, 
The terrors of trie living, not the dead, 
Man makes a death which nature never made; 
Then on the point of his own fancy falls, 
And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one. 

Young. 



STAR IN THE EAST. 

Hail the blest morn, when the great Mediator, 
Down from the mansions of glory descends; 



( 144 ) 

Shepherds go worship the Babe in the manger^. 
Lo! for his guard, the bright angels attend. 

CHORUS. 

Kindest and best of the sons of the mornings 
Daion on our darkness and lend tis thiiie 
aid, 
Star in the East, the horizon adorning, 
Guide lohere our infant Redeemer was 
laid, 

•Cold on his cradle, the dew-drops are shining, 
Low lies his head with the beasts of the 
stall; 

Angels adore him in slumber reclining, 
Maker and Monarch, and Saviour and all. 

Kindest and best, S;c. 

Say, shall we yield him in costly devotion. 
Odours of Eden, or offering divine; 

Gems from the mountains and pearls fTom the 
ocean. 

Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the 
mine. 

Kindest and best, ^^c. 

Vainly we offer each ample oblation. 
All those can never his favour secure; 

Richer by far, is the heart's adoration, 

Dearest to God are the prayers of the poor. 

Kindest and best, <§*c. 



( 145 ) 



TO PEACE. 

Come, lovely, gentle peace of mInJ, 
With all thy smiling nymphs around, 

Content and innocence combined, 

With wreaths of sacred olive crown'd. 

Come, thou that lov'st the walk at eve, 
The banks of murm'ring streams along, 

That lov'st the crowded court to leave, 
And hear the milk-maid's simple song: 

That lov'st, with contemplation's eye, 

The headlong cataract to view, 
That foams and thunders from on high. 

While echoes oft the sound renew; 

That lov'st the dark sequester'd wood, 

Where silence spreads her brooding wings, 

Nor less the lake's translucent flood. 
The mossy grots and bubbling spring?. 

With thee, the lamp of wisdom burns, 
The guiding light to realms above; 

With thee, the raptur'd mortal learns 
The wonders of celestial love. 

With thee, the poor have endless wealth, 
And sacred freedom glads the slave; 

With thee, the sick rejoice in health, 
The weak are strong, the fearful brave. 
13 



( 146 ) 

0, lovely, gentle peace of mind, 

Be thou on earth my constant guest; 

With thee, whatever in life I find, 

This pledge of heav'n shall make me blesto 



EXTRACT FROM "A MIDNIGHT THOUGHT," 

While active thought unseals my eye. 
And midnight darkness shades the skyj 
Be hush'd, my soul, ye moments stay 
While I rejudge the guilty day. 
See conscience glares, more dreadful made 
By silence and the awful shade! 
She points her poniard to my breast, 
And bids my justice speak the r^st. 

Then think, my soul, while Heav'n gives 

breath. 
And antedate the stroke of death! 
Keftect how swift the moments fly, 
Nor linger, unprepared to die! 

Pensive revolve, ere yet too late, 

The scenes of an eternal state. 

A series of unnumber'd years 

Are crown'd with joys, or lost in tears. 

What awful hints these thoughts inspire, 
They chill the blood, they pall desire; 
They teach the soul her heav'nly birth^ 
And banish all the pomp of earth. 



( 147 ) 

Here, as in air, a bubble tost, 
Her worth unknown, her genius lost; 
At pleasure's fancy has she drove, 
Forgetful of her seat above"! 

Oh! what such folly can atone, 
Reason ejected from her throne; 
Let humble penitence restore. 
And bid my soul to err no more. 

All clement thou, oh God! all just, 
The good man's rock, the sinner's trust; 
Accept the blood my Saviour shed, 
To save from wo this guilty head. 

Oh! send thy life-restoring grace, 
Effuse the lustre of thy face; 
From guilt and sorrow set me free. 
And guide me, till I come to thee. 



SELECT PIECES IN PROSE. 



All have their frailties: whoever looks for a 
friend without imperfections, will never find 
what he seeks; we love ourselves with all our 
faults, and we ought to love our friend in like 
manner. 

Imprint this maxim deeply In your mind, 
that there is nothing certain in this human 
and mortal state; by which means you avoid 
being transported with prosperity, and being 
dejected in adversity. 

There is not any thing more contemptible, 
or more to be pitied, than that turn of mind, 
which, finding no entertainment in itself, none 
at home, none in books, none in rational con- 
versation, nor in the intercourses of real friend- 
ship, nor in ingenious works of any kind, is 
continually seeking to stifle reflection in a tu- 
mult of pleasures, and to divert weariness in a 
crowd. 



( 149 ) 

IDeath, to a good man, is but passing through 
a dark entry, out of one little dusky room of 
his father's house, into another, that is fair and 
large, lightsome, glorious, and divinely enter- 
taining. 

By reading, we enjoy the dead; by conver- 
sation, the living; and by contemplation, our- 
selves. Reading enriches the memory, con- 
%^ersation polishes the wit, and contemplation 
improves the judgment. 

An idle body is a kind of monster in the 
creation. All nature is busy about him. 
How wretched it is to hear people complain 
that the day hangs heavily upon them; that 
they do not know what to do with themselves. 
How absurd are such expressions among crea- 
tures who can apply themselves to the duties 
of religion and meditation; to the reading of 
useful books; who may exercise themselves in 
the pursuits of knowledge and virtue, and eve- 
ry hour of their lives make themselves wiser 
and better than they were before. 

If every person would consider that he is 
in this life nothing more than a passenger, and 
that he is not to set up his rest here, but to 
keep an attentive eye upon that state of being 
to which he approaches every moment, and 
which will be for ever fixed and permanent, 
13* 



( 150 ) 

this single consideration would be sufficient 
to extinguish the bitterness of hatred, the thirst 
of avarice, and the cruelty of ambition. 

*' The Lord will provide." 

A Christian lady in Yorkshire, England, 
sitting down to breakfast, was very forcibly 
impressed, that she must instantly carry a loaf 
of bread to a poor man who lived about half a 
mile from her house. — Her husband wished 
her either to postpone taking the loaf until af- 
ter breakfast, or to send it by a servant; but 
she chose to take it herself instantly. As she 
approached the hut, she heard the sound of a 
human voice: wishing to hear what it was, she 
stepped softly and unperceived to the door, 
when she heard the poor man praying; and 
among other things he said, *' Lord, help 
me; Lord, thou wilt help me; thy promise can- 
not fail; and though my wife, self, and children, 
have no bread to eat, and it is now a whole 
day since we had any, I know that thou wilt 
supply me, though thou shouklst rain down 
manna from heaven.'' The lady could wait 
no longer; she opened the door: " Yes, she re- 
plied, God has sent you relief. Take this loaf, 
and be encouraged to cast your care upon him 
who careth for you; and when you ever want 
A loaf of bread, come to my house/' 



( 151 ) 

If you desire to live in peace and honour, in 
favour with God and man, and to die in the 
glorious hope of rising from the grave to a life 
of endless happiness — if these things appear 
worthy your ambition, you must set out in 
earnest in the pursuit of them. Virtue and hap- 
piness, are not attainable by chance, nor by a 
cold and languid approbation: they must be 
sought with ardour, attended to with diligence, 
and every assistance must be eagerly embraced 
that may enable you to obtain them. 

How very different is the view of past life, 
in the man who is grown old in knowledge 
and wisdom, from that of him who is grown old 
in ignorance and folly. The latter is like the 
owner of a barren country, that fills his eye 
with the prospect of naked hills and plains, 
which produce nothing either profitable or or- 
namental; the othSr beholds a beautiful and 
spacious landscape, divided into delightful 
gardens, green meadows, fruitful fields, and 
can scarcely cast his eye on a single spot of his 
possessions, that is not covered with some beau- 
tiful plant or flower. 

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is 
the kingdom of heaven." — Thus our blessed 
Saviour opened his sermon on the mount; and 
from his example we may be assured, that hu- 
mility is the richest garment that the soul can 



( 152 ) 

wear. By this word is to be understood, not 
an abject poorness of spirit that would stoop to 
do a mean thing; but such an humble sense of 
human nature, as sets the heart and affections 
right towards God, and gives us every tem- 
per that is tender and affectionate towards our 
fellow creatures. This is the soil of all vir- 
tues, where every thing that is good and love- 
ly grows. 

Despise not labour; if you do not want it 
for food, you may for physic. It strengthens 
the body, invigorates the mind, and prevents 
the ill consequences of idleness. 

Upon whatsoever foundation happiness be 
built, when that foundation fails, happiness 
must be destroyed; for which reason, it is wis- 
dom to choose such a foundation for it as is not 
liable to destructive accidents. If happiness 
be founded upon riches, it lies at the mercy of 
theft, deceit, oppression, war, and tyranny; if 
upon fine houses and costly furniture, one spark 
of fire is able to consume it; if upon wife, chil- 
dren, friends, health, or life, a thousand dis- 
eases, and ten thousand accidents, have power 
to destroy it; but, if it be founded upon the 
infinite bounty and goodness of God, and upon 
those virtues that entitle to his favour, its foun- 
dation is unmoveable, and its duration eternal. 



( 153 ) 

I 

The time of life is the only time wherein 
we can prepare for another world; and, oh! 
how short and uncertain is this time! How 
frail and uncertain is the life of man ! what mul- 
titudes does death surprise in an hour, when 
they think nothing of it! How silently and in- 
sensibly does time slide away; with what a 
winged swiftness does it fly, and we cannot 
stay its progress, stop its course, nor retard its 
its hasty motion. 

In the morning say to thyself, what shall I 
do this day, which God has given me? How 
shall I employ it to his glory? In the evening 
consider within thyself, and recollect, what 
have I done this day, and how have I spent it? 

Epitaph on Epictetus, the Stoic Philosopher. 

*< Epictetus, who lies here, was a slave and 
a cripple; poor as the beggar in the parable, 
and the favourite of Heaven." 

In this distich are comprised the noblest pa- 
negyric, and the most important instruction. 
We may learn from it, that virtue is impracti- 
cable in no condition, since Epictetus could 
recommend himself to the regard of Heaven, 
amidst the temptations of poverty and slavery. 
Slavery has been found so destructive to vir- 
tue, that, in some languages, a slave and a thief 
sTc expressed by the same word. And we may 



m. 



( 154 ) 

be admonished by it, not to lay any stress on a 
man's outward circumstances, in making an es- 
timate of his real virtue, since Epictetus, the 
beggar, the cripple, and the slave, was the fa- 
vourite of Heaven. 



TO THE POOR. 

The Providence of Almighty God, has placed 
you under difficult circumstances of life, and 
daily reads you a lesson in a more particular 
manner to depend upon him. This you may 
be assured of for your comfort, that you are 
under God's constant and immediate care; and 
one advantage you enjoy above the rich, in 
your journey to heaven, is, that you are not 
clogged and hindered in your course thither, 
by those manifold encumbrances which lie on 
them; of whom our Saviour has said, "That 
it is very hard for them to enter into the king- 
dom of heaven.'^ Their temptations are pro- 
portioned to their abundance; their cares are 
more, and their distractions greater; so that 
you have no reason to envy them, nor repine 
at your own condition; and these are chiefly 
your temptations, and against these you must 
be more particularly watchful. Certainly, if 
you consider things aright, you will find that 
your store-house is the most sure, your supply 



. ( 155 ) 

most certain; for you are immediately in the 
hands of God, of him who feedeth the ravens, 
and clotheth the grass of the field; so that you 
may be much more assured that he will clothe 
you. Endeavour to be humble, holy, heaven- 
ly minded; always remembering, that he is 
the poorest man, who is poor in grace. Your 
Saviour had not where to lay his head ; let his 
example serve to reconcile your low condi- 
tion to you; and let your religious behaviour 
under it, be the means to sanctify it. 



PRAYER. 

There is such a thing as converse with God 
in prayer, and it is the life and pleasure of a 
pious soul; without we are not Christians, and 
he that practises it most, is the best follower 
of Christ; for our Lord spent much time in 
converse with his Heavenly Father. This is 
balm that eases the most raging pains of the mind^ 
when the wounded conscience comes to the 
mercy-seat, and finds pardon and peace there. 
This is the cordial that revives and exalts our 
natures, when the spirit, broken with sorrows, 
and almost fainting to death, draws near to the 
Almighty Physician, and is healed and re- 
freshed. 



( 156 ) 

No revenge is more heroic than that which 
torments envy by doing good. 

It is in vain for him to pretend to love either 
God or man, who loves his money so much 
better, that he will sec his poor brother (who 
is a man, and bears the image of God) suffer 
all extremities, rather than part with any thing 
to relieve him, 

*' He that giveth to the poor, lendeth unto 
the Lord " — and that too on a solemn promise 
of repayment. ** That which he hath given, 
will he pay him again.'' It is, amongst men, 
thought a great disparagement, when we re- 
fuse to trust them: it shows we either think 
them not sufficient, or not honest. How great 
an affront is it then to God, thus to distrust 
him? 

Innumerable accidents there are, which may 
in an instant, bring a rich man to beggary; 
And, therefore,, what course so prudent can 
we take for our wealth, as to put it out of the 
reach of those accidents, by lending it to God, 
where we may be sure to find it ready at our 
greatest need, and that, too, with improvement 
and increase! 

Among the ancient Romans, it was not the 
house which honoured the master, but the mas- 
ter the house. A cottage with them became 



( i^^ ) 

as august as a temple, when justice, generosity 5- 
probity, sincerity, and honour, were lodged in 
it; and how can a house be called small, which 
contains so many, and such great virtues? 

The nobility arising from birth, is by far in- 
ferior to that which proceeds from merit. 

Marcus Aurelius was averse to every thing 
that had the air of pomp and luxury. He lay 
Upon the bare ground; at twelve years old, he 
took the habit of a philosopher; he forbore the 
use of guards, the imperial ornaments, and the 
ensigns of honour, which were carried before 
the Caesars and the Augusti. Nor was this 
conduct owing to his ignorance of what was 
grand and beautiful, but to the juster and purer 
taste he had of both, and to an intimate per- 
suasion, that the greatest glory, and principal 
duty of man, especially if in power, and emi- 
nently conspicuous, is so far to imitate the De- 
ity, as to throw himself into a condition of 
wanting as little as may be for himself, and do- 
ing all the good to others he is capable of. 

If it show a greatness of soul to overlook 
our own nobility, and not to sufifer it to gain 
the ascendent over our actions, we may like- 
wise observe, that it is no less great in Such as 
have raised themselves by merit, not to forget 

14 



( 158 ) 

the meanness of their extraction, nor be ashamed 
of it. 

We read in the Scriptures, that Boaz, in the 
midst of riches, was laborious, diligent in hus- 
bandry, plain without luxury, delicacy, sloth, 
or pride. How affable, how obliging and kind 
to liis servants! '« The Lord be with you," 
says he to his reapers; and they answered him, 
*< The Lord bless thee.'^ This was the beauti- 
ful language of religious antiquity; but how lit^ 
tie known in our days. 

An extraordinary merit may lie hidden un- 
der a mean habit, as a rich garment may coverv 

enormous vices. 

# 

Death seems to enter a cottage only as a gen- 
tle deliverer from the miseries of human lifej'- 
but into the courts and the seats of grandeur, 
with insult and terror. To languish under a 
gilded canopy, to expire on soft and downy 
pillows, and give up the ghost in state, has a 
more gloomy aspect, than at the call of nature, 
to expire on a grassy turf, and resign the breath- 
less clay back to its proper element. What 
does a crowd of friends or flatterers signify in 
that important hour, to the most glorious mor- 
tal? Which of his numerous attendants would 
stand the arrest of death, descend into the si- 



( 159 ) 

lent prison of the grave for him, or answer the 
summons of the supreme tribunal? 

Beauty is a short-lived flower, which is 
easily withered: A cultivated mind is a trea- 
sure, which increases every moment; it is a 
rich soil, which brings forth a hundred fold. 

What impressions can treasure and great 
possessions make upon the mind that is con-^ 
templating, seriously, the kingdom of hea- 
ven, and a crown of glory that never fades 
away? What are the pomp and majesty of 
an earthly court; the magnificence of palaces 
and crowded theatres, to one who has in view 
the glories of heaven; the triumphs of the 
saints; and the ineffable splendour of the an- 
gelic order? What are feasts, sports, plays, 
and all the varieties of sensual pleasures and 
delights, to him who steadfastly fixes his eye 
on celestial bliss, and everlasting transports of 

joy? 

He that would pass the latter part of life 
with honour and decency, must, when he is 
young, consider that he shall one day be old, 
and lay up knowledge for his support when 
his powers of acting shall forsake him; and re- 
member when he is old, that he has once been 
young, and forbear to animadvert, with unne- 
cessary rigour, on faults which experience only 
.can correct. 



( 1^0 ) 

It is of the last importance to season the 
passions of a child with devotion, which sel- 
dom dies in a mind that has received an early 
tincture of it. Though it may seem extin- 
guished for awhile by the cares of the world, 
the heats of youth, or the allurements of vice, 
it generally breaks out, and discovers itself 
again as soon as discretion, consideration, age, 
or misfortunes have brought the man to him- 
self. The fire may be covered and overlaid, 
but cannot be entirely quenched and smothered. 

The sleep of the labouring man is sweet; 
and if he toil hard for the bread that perish- 
eth, he has, in the midst of every want, if a 
follower of Christ, bread to eat that the world 
knows nothing of. It is not said, happy are 
they who possess abundance; but happy is the 
man who findeth wisdom, which is Christ, the 
pearl of great price. In him are hid those du- 
rable riches and righteousness, the merchandize 
of which is better than that of silver, and the 
gain thereof than fine gold. 

None but the Almighty author of our be- 
ing, who knows our inmost thoughts and der 
sires, and from whom no secrets are hid, can 
see into futurity; and he only knows what is vl 
best, and most proper for us. If we cheerfully 
rely on his all wise Providence, and confidently 
trust|inhispowerful protection, we may rest our- 
selves assured, that he, who is our truest friend. 



^ ( 1A1 



( 1^1 ) 



will guard and secure us from the many evils 
and dangers which every where surround us. 
He will guide and direct the future events of our 
lives in such a manner, as will prove, by hap- 
py experience, to be the most conducive to our 
own good, and the most consistent with the 
scheme of our own happiness, both here and 
liereafter. 



PORGITENESS OF INJURIES. 

Abuh Hanifah, a most celebrated doctor 
••among the orthodox muvssulmen, having cause- 
lessly received a malicious and violent blow 
on the face, spoke thus to him who struck 
him: "I could return you injury for the in- 
jury you have done me; but I will not. 1 
could also inform against you to the Kalif; but 
I will not be an informer. I could in my 
prayers and addresses to God, represent the 
outrage done me; but I will forbear that — In 
fine, I could, at the day of judgment, desire 
God to revenge it; but far be it from me; and 
could my intercession then prevail, I would 
not desire to enter paradise without you!'' 
How noble an instance of a calm, serene, and 
forgiving mind! How happy would it be for 
all Christians, and how honourable to the name 
of Jesus, were there more frequent exercises 
of this grace of forgiveness, like this wise and 

14* 



( 1^^ ) 

virtuoUvS Mahometan; and more especially like 
Him, who, upon the cross, prayed, *' Father, 
forgjive them, for they know not what they 
do!'' 

A man who entertains a high opinion of 
himself, is naturally ungrateful. He has too 
great an esteem of his own merit, to be thank- 
ful for any favours received. 

When tired and sick of all mortal v^anities, 
the religious mind reposes itself in the firm ex- 
pectation of drinking at the fountain of life, 
and of bathing in rivers of immortal pleasure; 
even death (which to the guilty is the gloomy 
period of all their joys, and the entrance to a 
gulf of undying wretchedness,) brightens into 
a smile, and, in an angel's form, invites the 
religious soul to endless rest from labour, and 
to endless scenes of joy. 

Plato being told that he had many enemies 
who spoke ill of him, "It is no matter," said 
he, " I will live so that none shall believe 
them." Hearing, at another time, that an in- 
timate friend of his had spoken detractingly 
of him, he said, <* I am sure he would not da 
it, if he had not some reason for it." This is 
the surest, as well as the noblest way, of draw- 
ing the sting out of a reproach, and the true 
method of preparing a man for that great and 



( 163 ) 

only relief against the pains of calumny — a 
good conscience. 

No trees bear fruit in autumn, unless they 
blossom in the spring. To the end that our 
age may be profitable, and laden with ripe 
fruit, let all endeavour, that our youth may be 
studious, and flowered with the blossoms of 
learning and observation. 

A wise heathen, with great justice, compares 
prosperity to the indulgence of a fond mother 
to her child, which often proves his ruin; .but 
the affection of the Divine Being to that of a 
wise father, who would have his sons exer- 
cised with labour, disappointment, and pains, 
that they may gather strength and improve 
their fortitude. Sometimes, too, a misfortune 
may happen to a good man, to preserve him 
from a much greater one. Thus, sickness may 
be a very great mercy to him, if it keep him 
from embarking in a vessel which will be lost 
in its passage. Thus, poverty may screen 
j him from a great many evils which would be 
brought upon him by riches,-' and the like. We 
are so short-sighted, that we know not how to 
distinguish, and often take the greatest bless- 
ings for misfortunes, and the heaviest curses 
for blessings. We are like mariners, who by 
fair winds might run into the way of pirates; 
but by those contrary to their wishes, reach 
their port in safety. 



( 164 ) 

The mercy-seat in heaven is our surest and 
-sweetest refuge in every hour of distress and 
darkness upon earth: this is our daily support 
and relief, while we are passing through a 
world of temptations and hardships, in the 
way to the promised land. **It is good to 
draw near to God." 

To look upon the soul as going on «^from 
strength to strength,'^ to consider that she is 
to << shine forever'^ with new accessions of 
glory, and brighten to all eternity; that she 
will be still adding virtue to virtue, and know- 
ledge to knowledge, carries in it something 
wonderfully agreeable to that ambition which 
is natural to the mind of man. Nay, it must 
be a prospect pleasing to God himself, to see 
his creation for ever beautifying in his eyes, 
and drawing nearer to him by greater degrees 
of resemblance. 

Why are we commanded to pray, <*Give 
us this day our daily bread," if not to teach 
us, among other things, our daily dependance 
upon God as the dispenser of all our temporal 
blessings? Our various wants return with the 
morning; and to whom should we look, but 
to him who is able to supply them? We need 
his direction through the perplexities and dif- 
ficulties of every day; and without his bless- 
ing and support, we can effect nothing to any 



( 165 ) 

valuable purpose. In the evening, we seek 
rest in vain, unless he give slumber to the eye- 
lids, and sleep to the eyes. And, as there are 
wants common to every family, and what all 
its members constantly experience, they ought 
certainly to unite in supplicating the same di- 
vine goodness, and also in returning thanks 
for the mercies of which they have all been 
joint partakers. 

Humility is a virtue which highly adorns 
the character in which it resides, and sets oflf 
every other virtue: it is an admirable ingredi- 
ent of a contented mind, and an excellent se- 
curity against many of those ills in life, which 
are most sensibly felt by people of a delicate 
nature. 

That man is most blessed, who receives his 
daily bread with gratitude and thankfulness 
from the hand of God; and he who does, ex- 
periences a pleasure that exceeds description. 
It is this that gives a relish to every repast; it 
is this that makes the coarsest morsel delicious 
to the taste; and it is the want of this that 
makes affluence a burden, instead of a blessing 
to the rich. 

Virtue is the foundation of honour and 
esteem, and the source of all beauty, order, 
and happiness in nature. 



( 166 ) 

Of all the calamities to which the condition of 
•mortality exposes mankind, the loss of reason 
appears, to those who have the least spark of 
humanity, by far the most dreadful; and they 
behold that last stage of human wretchedness 
with deeper commiseration than any other. 

The forgiving of injuries, is a virtue which 
not only Christianity, but morality enforces. 
The Heathens practised it to admiration; the 
primitive Christians exceeded them: But what 
a glorious example have we in the Lord and 
Master of our salvation, who prayed for his 
crucifiers — <* Father, forgive them/'&c. Luke 
xxiiL 34. 

RELIGION. 

Religion is a secure refuge, in seasons of 
deepest distress; it smooths the chagrin of life, 
makes us easy in all circumstances, and fills 
our souls with the greatest peace that our na- 
tures are capable of. The contemplation of 
the life and sufferings of our divine leader, must 
administer comfort in the severest affliction; 
while the sense of his power and omnipotence 
gives us humility in prosperity. Religion 
naturally tends to all that is great, worthy, 
friendly, generous, and noble; and the true 
spirit of it, not only composes, but cheers the 
soul Though it banishes all levity of be- 



( 167' ) 

haviour, all vicious and dissolute mirth, yet in 
exchange, it fills the mind with a perpetual 
serenity, and uninterrupted pleasure. The con- 
templation of divine mercy and power, and 
the exercise of virtue, are in their own nature 
so far from excluding all gladness of heart, that 
they are the principal and constant sources 
of it. 

A PRAYER OF PRINCE EUGENE, 

I believe in thee, oh! my God! do thou 
strengthen my faith; I hope in thee, confirm 
my hope; I love thee, inflame my love more 
and more; I repent of all my sins, but do thou 
increase my repentance. As my first begin- 
ning, I worship thee; as my last end, I long 
for thee; as my eternal benefactor, I praise 
thee; and as my supreme protector, I pray unto 
thee; that it may please thee, Lord ! to guide 
and lead me by thy providence; to keep me 
in obedience to thy justice; to comfort me by 
thy mercy; and to protect me by thy almighty 
power. I submit unto thee all my thoughts, 
words and deeds, as well as my afflictions^ 
pains, and sufferings; and I desire to have thee 
always in my mind, to do all my works in 
thy name, and for thy sake to bear all adversity 
with patience. I will nothing, but what thou 
wiliest, God! because it is agreeable unto- 
thee. give me grace, that I may be atten- 



( 168 ) 

live in my prayer, temperate in my diet) 
vigilant in my conduct, and immoveable in all 
good purposes. Grant, most merciful Lord! 
that I may be true and faithful to those who 
have intrusted me with their secrets; that I 
may be courteous and kind towards all men; 
and that both in my words and actions I may 
show unto them a good example. Dispose my 
heart to praise and admire ihy goodness; to 
hate all errors and evil works; to love my 
neighbour; and to despise the world. Assist 
me, good God! in subduing lust by mortifica- 
tion; covetousness by liberality; anger by 
mildness; and lukewarmness by zeal and fer- 
vency. Enable me to conduct myself with 
prudence in all my transactions; and to show 
courage in danger; patience in adversity; and 
in prosperity an humble mind. Let thy grace 
illuminate my understanding; direct my willj 
sanctify my body; and bless my soul. Make' 
me diligent in curbing all irregular affections;- 
zealous in imploring thy grace; careful in keep- 
ing thy commandments; and constant in work- 
ing out my own salvation. Finally, Godf 
make me sensible, how little is the world; hovv 
great thy heavens; how short time; and hovv 
long will be the blessed eternity. 0! that I 
may well prepare myself for death; that I may 
dread thy judgments; that I may avoid the tor- 
ments of hell; and obtain of thee, God! 
eternal life, though the merits of Jesus Christ 
our Lord. Amen. 



( 169 ) 

[From the Columbian Magazine.] 
ACCOUNT OF A CURIOUS SERMON. 

"And Rachel said unto Jacob, Give me children, or else I 
die; and Jacob's ang-er was kindled ag'ainst Rachel." 
Genesis xxx. Part of the 1st and 2d verses. 

From these words, my brethren, I shall beg 
leave to make a few observations, which may- 
tend to unfold some new ideas of the female 
character. 

The first remark that occurs, is the unrea- 
sonableness and folly of Rachel's request to 
her husband. She asks for children, as the 
condition of her life. ^' Give me children," 
says she, or else I die." Ah! weak and in- 
considerate woman! — Little didst thou know 
the dreadful connexion that was established in 
the book of fate, between thy death and the 
birth of children. But Heaven often curses 
human folly, by answering its prayers. Ra- 
chePs desires for an increase of her family are 
gratified; but, alas! Rachel knows only a short- 
lived joy from this event. She dies in child- 
bed with her second son. Her lovely boy- 
drops from her breast. His smiling infancy, 
and prattling childhood afford her no pleasure; 
for Rachel's remains have descended into the 
grave, and mixed with the clods of the valley. 

15 



( 170 ) 

A second remark that is suggested by the 
words of my text, is, that upon certain occa- 
casions, anger is a necessary passion, and that 
it may be exercised, with peculiar propriety, 
by husbands, when the folly of their wives re- 
quires it. Jacob was a man of uncommon dig- 
nity of character. He was wise, prudent, and 
religious — and yet Jacob was angry. He was 
a fond and indulgent husband — and yet he was 
angry at his wife. For we read, that the an- 
ger of Jacob was kindled against Rachel. But 
let us examine a little farther, and inquire in 
what manner Jacob discovers and gives vent 
to his anger. Does he stamp upon the floor, 
and call his wife by any improper names? 
— No. Does he drag her across the floor by 
the hair of her head, or threaten to throw her 
behind the fire? — No. Does he pinch her — 
or kick her — or beat her with his fist? — No-— 
for Jacob was a brave man, and never dis- 
graced his character as a soldier by striking a 
woman. He rebukes his wife by reasoning 
with her. '* Am I," says he, <* in God's stead, 
who hath withheld from thee the fruit of the 
womb?" 

Learn hence, ye husbands, from the exam- 
ple of Jacob, to treat your wives as reasonable 
creatures. In this way alone, you will not 
only reform them, but secure their perpetual 
esteem and afiection for you. 

We have beheld the end of Rachel^ the wife 



( 171 ) 

of Jacob; but, unhappily for mankind, her pos- 
terity did not die with her. There are Ra- 
chels still alive in every part of the world. 
While one cries out, <*Give me children, or 
else I die," there are hundreds of her descen- 
dants, who cry out, <« Give me no more chil- 
dren, or else I die." Nor is this all — how 
many wives do we find, who urge their re- 
quests to their husbands with the same power- 
ful, and, as they suppose, distressing argument. 
« Give me," says one, ** a new house, or else 
I die;" — " Give me," says a second, "another 
house-wench, or else I die;" — *<Give me," 
says a third, **a weekly rout, or else I die;" 
— "Give me," says a fourth, **atrip to the 
Virginia springs, or else I die;" — "Give me," 
says a fifth, " a winter in New York or Phila- 
delphia, or else I die;" — "Give me," says a 
sixth, "a service of plate, or else I die;" — 
"Give me," says a seventh, "a set of 
china, or else I die;" — "Give me," says an 
eighth, "a new silk gown, or else I die;" — 

" Give me," says a ninth But I forbear, 

for the day would fail me, should I attempt to 
enumerate all the instances of female folly and 
extravagance which display themselves in con- 
jugal and domestic life. 

I shall conclude with one remark, which, I 
hope, will be profitable to the ladies, who com- 
pose a part of my audience — and that is, that 
this kind of petulance never fails to cool the 



( 172 ) 

a'Sections of husbands. Of this we have a 
striking proof in the conduct of Jacob: we 
read, that his wife died on her journey with 
him to Ephrath. But we read of no marks 
of respect paid to her memory, by a splendid 
or even a decent funeral. We do not find that 
Jacob secludes himself, even for a single day, 
from his ordinary pursuits, in order to mourn 
over her. We only read that he placed a pil- 
lar of stone over her grave — probably to pre- 
vent her rising from her grave to teaze him 
with her ill-humour — and hence, probably, 
may be derived the origin of tombstones. 



AN ACCOUNT OF A DREADFUL STORM IN 
THE DELAWARE BAY, on the 26th of Sept. 
1831. 

I had travelled from Wilmington to Lewis- 
town (situated near the mouth of the Bay of 
Cape Henlopen, in a stage-coach, about the 
middle of September. I spent a few days 
very agreeably in walking on the shore and 
bathing in the sea; but the wind changing from 
the south-west to the north-east, and the wea- 
ther becoming cold and rainy, the sudden tran- 
sition threw me into a fever, and I became 
very unwell, and (the town being destitute of 
the things I wanted,) I was therefore re- 
solved to return to Philadelphia as soon as pos» 



( 173 ) 

«lble; but I had to wait with great anxiety and 
impatience several days more, before an oppor- 
tunity offered, on account of contrary winds. 
At length, however, the wind proving favour- 
able, we set sail in a sloop called the Plough- 
Boy, commanded by Captain Rodney. There 
were a great many passengers on board, but 
chiefly women and children, (the greater part 
t)f whom had been at the camp-meeting;) we 
started at about ten o'clock in the morning; the 
wind being south-south-west, but blowing so 
very gently, that it took us about two hours 
in going down the creek — a distance of only 
three miles. This slow movement being rather 
tiresome, I was desirous that a brisk breeze 
might spring up, so that our voyage home 
might soon be accomplished. 

I had previously considered it best (at the 
time I left Wilmington,) to travel by land to 
Lewistown, and return home by water, in or- 
der that, if any storm should arise, we might 
clear the bay by day-light, or in time enough 
to be out of danger; but I was sadly disap- 
pointed in my views at last; for the sun had 
crossed the line just three days before, and the 
equinoctial storm was yet to come. 

We sailed gently on till about nine o'clock 
at night, when the wind suddenly shifted from 
south-south-west to north-north-east, and one 
of the most dreadful storms arose, perhaps, that 
ever visited our bay. We were now near the 

15* 



( 1^4 ) 

widest part of the bay, being but a few miles 
above the mouth of Morris's River. The sails 
were immediately lashed, and the vessel left 
to run before the storm at the mercy of the 
wind and waves; — but the violence of the 
wind was such, that the jib was blown into 
tatters before it could be secured; the rain 
poured down in torrents, being accompanied 
with the most awful thunder and lightning! 
These, together with the appearance of spar- 
kling fire around the vessel, (a phenomenon 
which always occurs when the sea is greatly 
agitated at night,) presented to the view the 
most sublime, though dreadful scenery! and 
filled the mind with an apprehension of death 
in one of its most terrible forms! The captain 
had given up the vessel as lost for some time, 
although he did not mention it to any of the 
passengers till afterwards; but we were not 
left long in this anxious suspense before the 
vessel received a most violent shock, just as if 
it had been crushed to pieces. It appeared to 
the cabin passengers as if the stern, or part of 
it, were blown in, and we were immediately 
left in total darkness! the candles being all out, 
and the water gushing in, the cabin was half 
leg deep in a moment! so that death seemed to 
stare us full in the face: by every appearance, 
it seemed that the vessel would sink in two or 
three minutes. A most dreadful scene ensued ! 
each soul calling loudly upon God for preser- 



( 175 ) 

vation; and perhaps more sincere prayers were 
scarcely ever offered up to the throne of grace, 
than at this time. But even at this critical 
moment, when death seemed inevitable, I still 
had a small degree of faith that I should be 
preserved, (but how or in what manner I did 
not perceive,) as I had previously to my set- 
ting out on this journey, according to my usual 
practice, offered up secret prayers to the Al- 
mighty for my protection and preservation. 

I endeavoured to get on the deck, in order 
to climb up the mast, so as to preserve life as 
long as possible, in case the vessel should 
strike where the water was not very deep; but 
the hatchway was fast, and being in total dark- 
ness, I could do nothing. But while we were 
in this dreadful situation, engaged in the most 
fervent prayer, the captain, (who, since the 
commencement of the storm, had been con- 
stantly at the helm,) on hearing a terrible cry 
below deck, came down immediately with a 
lantern, and assured us that the danger was 
not so great as we imagined; and told us not 
to be alarmed, for it appeared that the water 
was gushing in only at the apertures of the pri- 
vy and the cabin windows, which last were not 
provided with dead lights, and had blown in; 
and, upon those places being secured, the wa- 
ter ceased to flow into the cabin. This was 
joy fill news to us all; and we had reason to 
believe that our prayers were heard, for di- 



( 176 ) 

rectly after this the wind shifted to the north* 
north-west, and the storm instantly subsided, 
ahhough the wind still blew a hard gale, and 
the water continued greatly agitated for some 
lime: nor did my apprehensions entirely leave 
me, until the violent rocking of the vessel had 
nearly ceased. 

I have already mentioned that each soul was 
engaged in prayer, but it appears there was 
one exception: this was a middle-aged lady, 
who afterwards told me that she did not pray 
during the storm; that she considered herself 
fit to die; and, if it were the Almighty's will 
that she should die, she was perfectly resigned. 
But I thought diiferently. Even if she were 
fully convinced that she was prepared, still 
«he might well think that some of the passen- 
gers were not; and, in that case, she ought to 
have prayed for their safety, if not for her 
own: I therefore thought I had reason to doubt 
the truth of her assertion, and considered it a 
species of boasting. I think proper also to 
mention in this place, that among the passen- 
sengers, on their first coming on board the 
sloop, I observed a young lady of a prepos- 
sessing appearance, and most graceful form; 
but, as I thought, rather proud and affected in 
her manners. When standing at the door of 
the cabin, she asked one of the men the way 
down into it, which she pretended not to 
know. But at the time of the storm, she was 



{ 177 ) 

seriously engaged in prayer, and seemed much 
affected at the awful situation we were in. 
Seeing that I was greatly alarmed, as well as 
herself, she came to me, and spoke of the great 
propriety of putting our whole trust in that 
Being, who can control the storm, and hath 
power over the wind and waves. I agreed 
Avith her in opinion, that it is our only securi- 
ty in time of danger. 

A short time previously to the storm I had 
just fixed myself in a birth with a view to spend 
the night, but being in a high fever, as before 
mentioned, it was very difficult to sleep. 
However, I scarcely had time to give it a fair 
trial, before I was roused from my situation, 
on account of the impending danger. I jumped 
out of my birth at the critical moment above 
mentioned, when my shoes immediately filled 
with water, and fear dispersed the fever en- 
tirely, until the storm abated, when it returned 
in full force; and my birth being now occupied 
by some other person, I sat up the greater 
part of the night with wet feet, in great mise- 
ry. At last, a respectable coloured woman, 
of the name of Mrs. Durham, who had some 
knowledge of me, had compassion on me, and 
offered me her birth, which I gladly accepted: 
but I was unable to sleep; and, after a short 
time, I got up again, and sat with patience un- 
ill morning. 

We were all the next day and night in 



( 178 ) 

coming to Philadelphia, and were all very 
thankful for the danger we had escaped. The 
captain observed, that it was the greatest storm 
he had ever known to happen on the Dela- 
ware bay; that he expected, every minute, the 
boom would go up the mast; and that if it had 
lasted only a few minutes longer, the sloop 
must either have sunk or struck, — the ship 
channel being only a mile wide. Mr. Nor- 
man, the sailing-master, also informed us, that 
though he had followed the seas many years, 
he never before experienced so violent a storm. 
The impression it made on my mind was so 
great, that it never can be erased. 

I shall conclude by calling to mind the ob- 
servation of the royal psalmist on this subject; 
namely: "They that go down to the sea in 
ships, and occupy their business in the mighty 
waters; these men see the greatness of the 
Lord, and his wonders in the deep.'^ 



THE END. 



^ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




